RIP, Jackson Gibbs
by Emi-Lynn
Summary: Eventually, probably all of us will have a story to tell about the passing of Jackson Gibbs. This is mine. Future slash, but of the fade to black variety. We can fight, we can rail against death, but in the end, all we can do is to say goodbye. The loss of someone special impacts all of them, but two most of all.
1. Tragedy

RIP, Jackson Gibbs

One is never prepared for the loss of a loved one.

_~unknown~_

Gibbs was sitting on the sofa with his feet up as he thought about his weekly phone call to his father the night before. Jackson had seemed out of sorts, but Gibbs couldn't quite put his finger on the problem. Something about his nagging cough and dull responses had Gibbs' gut pinging. He considered taking a few days of emergency leave, but they were already down one agent, not to mention training a very new newbie and the current case was starting to heat up. Before he could come up with a solution, his cell phone rang, the caller ID showing the name of his absent agent.

_Hey, Boss._

"Hey, McGee, how's it going? You all ready to testify?" Through an odd quirk of fate McGee had become involved in a civilian case hundreds of miles away in Rochester, New York, when he'd cracked the encryption on a suspect's laptop. Forwarding the information had resulted in the rescue of a missing child and the arrest of her kidnapper over a year ago. Now the case was going to trial and to make the case solid, the DA had requested McGee's testimony and Vance had readily agreed. Of course they'd gotten a big break in their current case before McGee's plane had touched down in Rochester.

_Actually, they don't need me now. Dawes agreed to a plea bargain and the judge handed down the sentence about an hour ago just as the court was shutting down for the night._

Usually the agents hated to deal with court, but McGee actually sounded a little disappointed that he didn't get to explain to the jury what he'd done. "What kind of sentence did he get?"

_Twenty-five years before he's even eligible for parole._

"Probably for the best, that way the victim doesn't have to testify. So, you heading back or gonna take a few days there? Vance isn't expecting you back until Thursday." Gibbs wasn't surprised at the answer.

_I'm trying to head out now, but I can't get a flight out tonight. They're expecting a storm to hit later tonight or early tomorrow morning and it's supposed to be pretty bad. Something about the lake effect snow. I'm playing with the idea of renting a car. If I leave in the next hour or so, I should be able to stay ahead of the storm. Will the Agency reimburse me if I do that?_

"Sure they will." Mentally, Gibbs shrugged. He hadn't terrorized Fred from accounting for months, he was past due for a visit. Something else caught Gibbs' attention as he mentally reviewed the map. "Actually, McGee, if you do that, could you do me a favor?"

_Sure, Boss, anything._

"It'll probably add an hour or so to your trip, but would you stop in Stillwater and check on my dad? He didn't sound all that good the last time I talked to him." Gibbs felt guilty asking, but as soon as he said the words, he felt better.

_Of course. I'll definitely drive then and I'll be on the road as soon as I can get a rental car. Probably less than an hour._

"You be careful and, Tim... thanks." Gibbs closed his phone and leaned back on the sofa with a sigh. His father was a proud and stubborn man, but with any luck Tim's own stubbornness and earnest face would win out.

-NCIS-

In reality, it had taken until after 2300 before he could leave Rochester with a rental car. Timothy McGee had certainly driven in snow before but the addition of the lake effect was stunning and slightly terrifying. He was glad to get enough distance between himself and Lake Ontario for the storm to settle down to a normal blizzard. What should have only taken him four hours had ended up taking almost seven and a half.

The up side of all that was that he'd be arriving in Stillwater an hour before sunrise and after a long night of driving in the heavy snow, it wouldn't look odd for him to have made the detour, looking for a respite from the storm.

It was no surprise that the store was still closed that early in the morning, so Tim drove on to Jackson's house. The road was almost impassable by then and he leaned against the steering wheel in exhaustion as he was finally able to shut off the engine. He let himself have just a moment, then took a deep breath and opened the door.

Ice pellets mixed with large snow flakes pelted him as soon as the door opened and Tim tugged his coat tighter as he climbed out and grabbed his bag. A light was on in what Tim remembered was the kitchen and he saw movement, so he knew Jackson was up. Sure enough, as he stepped onto the front porch, the curtain moved so Tim called out. "Mr. Gibbs, it's Timothy McGee. I was hoping I could crash here for a few hours and wait out the storm."

Jackson opened the door. "Tim? What on Earth are you doing here? Come on, get in here before that wind blows you away."

"Thanks." Tim pushed the door closed behind him before explaining, keeping to the truth as much as possible. "I couldn't get a flight out of Rochester, so I rented a car to get back to DC."

"Thought you could beat the storm?"

"Yeah. Never driven in that lake effect snow before." He shook off as much snow as he could and left his coat and bag by the front door.

Jackson still looked suspicious, so Tim tried to look as tired and pitiful as possible, which actually wasn't that hard under the circumstances. "So what were you doing that far North?"

"I was supposed to testify in a kidnapping case, but the perp finally took a plea bargain." They'd walked into the kitchen and Tim gratefully took the cup of coffee Jackson handed him, wrapping his fingers around the mug to warm them up.

"The Dawes case? Didn't think NCIS was involved in that one."

Tim was surprised at first, but then he remembered that Jackson was almost obsessive about watching the news and keeping up with current events. Stillwater was a small town, but cable news was cable news no matter where you were watching from.

"We weren't, but a suspect in one of our cases was sharing pictures of little girls with Dawes so I started tracking both of their movements. Our suspect dabbled in kiddy porn, but Dawes was a little more hands on. He sent a message to our suspect about having a new little girl soon and I tracked him down."

"Shouldn't you have turned it all over to the police up there?"

"Had to get a location first, then I did." As Tim talked about the case, he carefully watched Jackson. Gibbs was right, something was definitely off. There was a gray cast to his skin tone and he seemed somewhat out of breath in addition to a slight cough. "Mr. Gibbs, what's wrong? You don't seem well."

Jackson tried to sip up as straight as possible. "I'm just not as young as I used to be, that's all."

"I'll call Gibbs."

"No, no, don't bother Leroy. I don't want to be a bother to him."

"You're not a bother, you're his father. Who do you think he asked to track down Walter Beck for you? Of course that was when he thought Mr. Beck was in your squadron."

They both laughed at that before Tim made his offer. "Maybe you should see someone, get checked out. Why don't you make an appointment to see your doctor today or tomorrow and I'll watch the store for you?"

"I already saw Doc Henry." Tim didn't say anything, just stared at him and Jackson found himself telling the rest with a sigh. "He wants me to go see some fancy specialist in Allentown."

"Who's the doctor? I'll make the call and drive you down there."

"Now, you don't need to trouble yourself with me. I'll be fine."

Tim stared at him for a moment. "Either I can take you or I'll call Gibbs and he can come up and take you."

Jackson crossed his arms over his chest. "You're as stubborn as he is, do you know that?"

Deliberately misunderstanding the question, Tim smiled. "Thank you."

He hadn't meant it as a compliment, but Jackson just shook his head, giving up. "Fine, but you've been driving all night. You need to get some shut-eye if we're going anywhere."

"Agreed." Tim didn't need anyone to tell him he was close to the end of his endurance. "If it's all right with you, I'll crash on the sofa for a couple of hours, then I'll call the doctor's office when they open up."

"There's a perfectly good guest room upstairs. Or, you could get that DiNozzo character all in a tizzy by sleeping in Leroy's old room." There was a twinkle in Jackson's eye before he started coughing again.

Tim smiled at the joke even as he listened carefully to Jackson's cough. "If I go upstairs to sleep, what are you going to be doing? You're not going to try to shovel the walkway are you?"

"You'll tattle on me if I do. Nah, I'll stretch out and read for a while, maybe go back to sleep."

Picking up his bag, Tim climbed to his feet. "All right, I'll see you about nine, then."

-NCIS-

The upstairs was cold and Tim remembered Jackson mentioning that he didn't turn the heat up very high on the second floor since he never went up there. A small, portable heater was on the dresser and Tim thought about turning it on, but decided to just use the electric blanket. He turned it on to warm up before setting his alarm for 0830. That would give him time to give Gibbs an update privately before he called Jackson's doctor.

-NCIS-

Gibbs had been up at daybreak, listening to the morning news. The expected storm had hit western New York earlier and harder than anticipated, so he hoped that McGee had gotten out of there in time. Just as he was debating whether or not to call, his phone rang and Gibbs quickly answered it.

"Hey, where are you? Been watching the weather reports and it looks pretty bad out there."

_Yeah, it took me over seven hours of driving time to get to Stillwater and that was after hours of fighting to get a rental car. They didn't want any of their cars out on the road in this._

Gibbs gave a low whistle. "Damn, McGee, I didn't know I was getting you into such a mess."

_It's okay, Boss. You were right, he's not doing too well. His doctor wants him to see a specialist down in Allentown. He's been putting it off, so I'm going to call for him as soon as the office opens at nine. I told him that I'd drive him down there and wouldn't take no for an answer._

"I bet he loved that."

_Said I was as stubborn as you, quit arguing when I thanked him._

That got a laugh out of Gibbs before he turned serious. "Thanks, Tim. I really do appreciate this."

_He's important to me, too, Gibbs. I'll call you back as soon as I've got the appointment set up._

"I'll be waiting." This was one of the rare times that Gibbs was slow in closing his phone. Even over the old phone line at his father's house he could hear how tired McGee was. Deciding to drive up, himself, Gibbs refilled his coffee cup and went back upstairs to finish getting dressed. He'd meet them at the doctor's office and let McGee get home and rest.

-NCIS-

After talking to Gibbs, Tim went downstairs. Jackson was still asleep, but Tim found a business card from the only doctor in town, a Dr. Henry Ward. On the back, in someone else's handwriting, was the name of another doctor and a phone number. Since it wasn't Jackson's writing, he assumed it was Dr. Ward's. A quick check online identified Dr. James Michael Crawford as the Head of Cardiology at Lehigh Valley Hospital.

Just to be sure, Tim called Dr. Ward's office first. Eventually the call was picked up by his service that informed McGee that Dr. Ward was currently snowed in Williamsport and probably wouldn't be able to get back to Stillwater until sometime the next day. Tim thanked the woman and ended the call. He'd hoped to get more information about what Jackson needed, but he'd go with what he could find out on his own.

At 0901, he was back upstairs and on the phone with Dr. Crawford's receptionist. After explaining the situation and his worry, he asked for the first possible appointment. The receptionist seemed to understand and he happily waited while she put him on hold to find a spot.

_Mr. McGee, we had a patient cancel his appointment for tomorrow, probably because of the weather. Would that work?_

If it hadn't, he would have made it work. "Yes, absolutely. What time?"

_Three o'clock._

"We'll be there. Thank you so very much." As soon as the call was complete, Tim dialed Gibbs again. "Hey, Boss, I got him set up with an appointment."

_That's great, when?_

"Tomorrow afternoon at 1500. They had a cancellation, so I was able to get him in now. Otherwise, he would have had to wait a couple of weeks.

_Good. That's real good, Tim. All right, I'll let Vance know that Tony has the case as of tomorrow morning and arrange for a TAD to help him and Bishop so I can drive up and meet you and Dad, see what this doctor says._

McGee breathed a sigh of relief. As fond as he was of Jackson, he'd been afraid that he'd be asked to make decisions best left to family. "That's great, Boss. I'll send all the information to your phone."

_See you tomorrow, McGee._

Once the call ended, Tim went back downstairs. Jackson was in the kitchen, cutting up some meat. The older man didn't even look up. "You know, those fancy doctors usually make you wait weeks or months for a damned appointment."

"Tomorrow, three o'clock."

Jackson chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"Nope.

"Fine."

"And just think, you get to spend the morning watching a city boy shovel snow. Folks expecting the store to be open this morning?"

Nah, not until the plows come through. Stillwater's the last one on the list."

"Joys of small town living?"

Turning so that McGee couldn't clearly see him, Jackson rubbed at his chest. "Don't you know it."

-NCIS-

Gibbs had just been walking into the bullpen when his phone rang. After talking to McGee, he turned to go upstairs and found Vance standing behind him.

"Was that McGee? My understanding is that the trial is already over. He notified personnel that he was taking a few days of personal leave so I am assuming that you authorized it."

Of course McGee would have already updated the personnel office. "I did, but I want it to come out of my leave, not his. He stopped to check up on my dad and now he's staying to take Jackson to a doctor tomorrow."

"HR doesn't work that way, Gibbs." Vance held up his hand before Gibbs could argue with him. "However, you can donate any number of hours of your leave to his account."

To the team leader, that sounded like the same thing, but he'd never had the patience for those sorts of regulations. "Fine, I'll take care of it. He also rented a car so he could get out of Rochester before the storm hit. That will be covered, right?"

He could argue, but it really wasn't worth it. Gibbs would just go terrorize Fred in Accounting and a car rental for several days probably wasn't much more expensive than the airline ticket would have been. "Yes, we'll reimburse him for the car. Did I hear that you are going up to meet them?"

"Yeah." Gibbs rubbed at the sides of his face. It was barely the start of the work day and he was already wiped. "The town doctor is sending my dad to a specialist almost two hours away, sounds pretty serious. Probably going to have to have some decisions made. Tony can handle the case and he needs the experience of running point without me hanging over his shoulder."

"Good enough. I'll have a TAD for him in the morning. Do you want him to have Dorneget or Adams?"

Gibbs didn't really have to think about it. Dorneget was a good agent, but lacked enough field experience to adequately back up DiNozzo and Bishop if things heated up, especially considering how green Bishop still was. "Adams."

"Done. In fact, I'll see if I can get him in here this afternoon so he can get caught up on the case."

"Appreciate it, Leon." Gibbs gave a short nod and continued on to his desk, barking orders to DiNozzo and Bishop as they came off the elevator. Vance watched him for a moment before turning toward the stairs. Gibbs was a rock, but this was his father they were talking about. He hoped things weren't going to get too bad, too soon, for the elderly man.

-NCIS-

Tim enjoyed the breakfast Jackson had fixed for both of them before he stood. "Where's your snow shovel? I'll get started on the walk and the driveway."

"You don't have to do that."

"The snow is past the bottom on my car doors. I think it's going to take some work to get it out and it's not going to melt before tomorrow."

"We could reschedule the appointment." Jackson had a hopeful look on his face and Tim just shook his head. He wasn't going to let him put this off for another couple of weeks.

"Shovel?"

Now he was getting the glare that was so familiar, even if it was an older version. "Back porch, and wear my coat so you don't freeze to death out there. There's gloves in the pockets."

"Thank you."

His own outerwear wasn't nearly warm enough for this weather, but he hadn't expected to be anywhere other than a heated building or an airplane. Jackson's old coat was heavy, but it was warm and plenty big. The gloves were a little less successful as Tim's fingers were quite a bit longer than Jackson's and the thick, padded leather didn't stretch. Rather than argue with Jackson, he slipped them on but planned on swapping out to his own gloves once he was outside.

Tim went out the back door and found the snow shovel before tromping through the snow to the front of the house. He started at the front porch steps, scraping and moving the snow off to the side. Being an apartment dweller all his adult life it had been many years since he'd shoveled snow and he'd never dealt with it quite this deep. As he worked he hoped that the plows would reach Stillwater by morning or it was going to be a long and difficult drive getting back out to the main highways.

-NCIS-

Tony bounced to his feet as he hung up his phone. "Got something. A warehouse out in Manassas that's leased to our mysterious shell company. Dorneget is meeting us there with a warrant."

"Good." Gibbs shoved his SIG into his holster as he stood. He'd feel a lot better if they could break this case open before he left in the morning. The question of why Dorneget and not Adams was on the tip of his tongue, but then he remembered that Adams wouldn't be there until later in the day. Not everyone could drive up from Norfolk as quickly as Gibbs.

Remembering where the other man was coming from, Gibbs grabbed his cell phone and quickly dialed Vance as they loaded into the elevator. "Dorneget is meeting us with a warrant. Have Adams go straight there, okay? Thanks."

Tony gave him a funny look as he ended the call. "I know we're short McGee, but if we've already got Dorney meeting us, do we really need Adams?"

Gibbs hadn't said anything about being gone tomorrow. "It's a warehouse, DiNozzo. Do you really want us to go through a couple of thousand boxes by ourselves?"

"Good point, Boss."

"Thought so." Gibbs glanced over at Bishop to see if she had anything to add. When she remained silent, he led them out to the car.

-NCIS-

The snow was even deeper and heavier than he'd been expecting and within just a few minutes Tim was sweating in his borrowed heavy coat, even though his hands were freezing. He considered putting the thick leather gloves back on, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to hang onto the handle of the shovel with his fingers so bound up.

Eventually he found his rhythm, even managing a furtive glance at Jackson through the front window every time he tossed a shovelful of snow to the side. Tim was about halfway to the driveway when Jackson disappeared from view. It took a second to register with Tim before he dropped the shovel and started toward the door, trying to come up with an excuse to explain why he was dashing in the house with so much work left to do.

Any story he could come up with about needing coffee vanished when he went inside and found Jackson on the floor, not moving.

"Jack? Oh, my God, Jackson!"

Tim rounded the sofa, dropping to his hands and knees next to the prone figure as he tugged off his icy gloves. Frantically, he felt for a pulse, rubbing his hands together and trying for a second time. "Come on, come on."

He still couldn't find a pulse and he rolled Jackson onto his back. The elderly man was limp, his eyes closed. Tim had to raise back up onto his knees to get his phone out of his pocket. Dialing 911 and then hitting the speaker button, he dropped it onto the floor as he started CPR.

_911, police, fire or medical?_

"Medical, I need a bus, I think he's had a heart attack."

_You're calling from a cell phone, sir. I need an address._

Tim looked around frantically as he continued chest compressions. He'd driven here by memory one he'd reached Stillwater and didn't have a clue what the street address was. Jackson had knocked over a small table when he fell and there were several pieces of mail on the floor. He reached out and grabbed one before resuming compressions. After reading off the address, he resumed CPR, bending down to breathe for Jackson.

_Is someone giving the victim CPR?_

"I am." Tim knew her questions were procedure, but he was already panting from the exertion.

_Are you alone with the victim?_

"Yes! Three... four... five..." A drop of sweat ran into his eye, stinging and blurring his vision. "How soon?"

_ETA on the ambulance is fifteen minutes, sir. Local officers have been notified._

He needed someone to help with the CPR. "Are they coming?"

_ETA unknown, sir._

He felt the first flicker of panic. "Damn it, we need help now." Muffled voices could be heard over the speaker. He knew that the emergency dispatch service in the area was actually a combined, three county effort, but he had no idea where the dispatch office was. Obviously not in Stillwater, not with a population of less than 200, as the entire police department would have fit in Jackson's living room. Eventually, the dispatcher came back on the line.

_We're checking, sir._

Another ten rounds of compressions and breathing. Tim was straining to hear the sounds of the approaching ambulance, but all he could hear was a pounding in his ears. Finally, another voice came on the line, male and older sounding.

_All right, son, how you doing? My name is Daniel and we're going to get you through this. Now, what's your name._

"Tim, I'm Tim. We need help." Water was landing on his hands as he pressed down again and again. He didn't know where it was coming from, but when he tilted Jackson's head back to give him another breath, it was salty as it dribbled down onto his lips.

_We know, son. Sheriff Gantry is on his way, but he's way out on the north side of town, almost to Maple Grove. It's going to take him a while to get through the snow. One of his deputies is trying to get back from Waterton. They're the only two on duty today, Tim._

Tim didn't waste his breath answering, just concentrated on trying to keep Jackson alive. His world narrowed down to his count, the chest compressions, the air he was forcing into Jackson's lungs and the clock on the corner of his phone.

Twelve minutes. Breathe, one... two... three...

Seventeen minutes. One hundred compressions a minute, his arms were starting to burn.

Twenty minutes. Twenty-eight... twenty-nine... thirty... breathe.

"Where's the damn ambulance?"

_We're trying to raise them now, Tim. Hold on._

He heard muted sounds over the phone, then a muffled angry shout. "What? What's happening? How much longer?"

_The ambulance went off the road and rolled. We're going to try to..._

"No! He needs help now. How long for another ambulance?"

_There's been a multi-car pile up on Interstate Eighty. All the other ambulances in the area are there, but we're trying to reroute one now. Just stay calm, Tim, you're doing fine._

"He's not! Please..." Starting to feel dizzy, Tim closed his eyes for a moment. "You have to help us."

_You're inside the house? Can you see anyone outside? Do you know any of the neighbors?_

The snow had been steadily picking up, there weren't even any children playing outside. "No, no one. I... I don't live here, I don't even know who to find."

_Okay, Tim, I'm going to try and get the Sheriff on another line. Just hang on._

"Yeah, sure." He was queasy, but kept going, counting out loud to keep the numbers straight in his head. He'd done another twelve rounds of compressions when Daniel came back on the line.

Sheriff's close, Tim. He'll be there in a few minutes. Listen for his siren. Tell me when you hear it.

"Yeah, okay." Thirty compressions, two breaths. Thirty compressions, two breaths. Even the clock on his phone dropped off his radar as his world narrowed down. Thirty compressions, two breaths. Finally a sound. "I hear it, I hear a siren."


	2. Fighting the Good Fight

Sheriff Ed Gantry had just finished helping round up a load of goats from an overturned truck when he got a call from dispatch.

"This is Gantry, go."

_Sheriff, we've got a report of a man down, probable heart attack, in Stillwater. _

The downside of a small town was that if things went bad, it was usually personal. "Damn it, what's the address?" The dispatcher rattled off the address and Ed but back a curse as he eased his department pickup truck around the accident. "That's Jackson Gibbs' place. How bad?"

_Full arrest. Witness is performing CPR, but..._

"Yeah. Okay, I'm on my way." It was on days like this that Gantry was glad he'd been able to talk the county into investing in a truck. Heavy duty, four wheel drive with chains on all four wheels. Adding a couple of hundred pounds of steel panels in the bed of the truck had given it enough weight to get through just about anything.

_Got an ETA for me?_

Gantry sped up a bit and immediately slid. He struggled for a moment and got it back under control. "Nope."

It took way too long to get back into town, but he radioed in as he saw the first house through the curtain of snow. "I'm hitting the city limits. Give me a status report on the heart attack victim. Has he been stabilized and transported yet?"

_Negative. Ambulance crashed on the way. Witness is still performing CPR._

After this length of time, the chances weren't good. "Dan..."

_I know, Ed. I'm sorry. Make sure you're running lights and sirens, let the witness know help's coming._

Gantry flipped the switches on his dashboard, the lights reflecting all around him from the snow. He'd been trained but had never had to use CPR in actual real life. Trying to remember who else in town had first aid training, he had to ask. "Who's with him?"

_Witness gave his name as Tim. Calling from an out of state cell phone._

"Got it." Gantry hoped it was just some stranger that had found him and not some friend of Jackson's. Not that he'd wish this on anyone. Now that he was in town, the road was straight and flat and he was able to pick up speed a little as he drove down the middle of the deserted street. The houses were spread out, but close enough that his siren attracted attention and he saw some curtains open as he drove by.

Time seemed to crawl, but eventually he was in front of the Gibbs' house. Dreading what he was going to find, he grabbed his hat and climbed out of the cab. The door was open a crack and he called out as he ran up the partially cleared walkway. "It's Sheriff Gantry."

"Here, in here."

The voice sounded exhausted and slightly familiar. Gantry stepped around the corner and found Jackson Gibbs on the ground, a figure hunched over him, performing CPR. When he looked up, Gantry realized who he was. "You're one of Jethro's agents."

His face was bright red from exertion and sweat and tears were on his face.

"Yeah, where's the ambulance." Tim bent down to breathe again for Jackson and Gantry grabbed his radio.

"You got us an ambulance yet, Dan?"

_Not that I can pull._

It wasn't said, but Gantry knew that the time had already passed for a good ending to this. Next to him, McGee was refusing to give up. "What about a chopper?"

"Not in this storm, kid. It's over, you did your best." Gantry touched his shoulder, hoping to pull him away, but Tim just shook him off and kept working.

"No, only a doctor can call it. We have to get him to the hospital."

Footsteps could be heard stomping up the porch and Gantry looked up. It was Carla Conners, from down the street. She'd lost her own husband to a heart attack while on vacation only weeks after he'd retired from the mines. He knew she was reliving the memory as she watched McGee's frantic efforts and Gantry made a decision. "Carla, open the back of my truck and get the canvas that's rolled up in there. We're going to use it as a sling to carry Jackson out. We'll use my truck to get him to the hospital."

Gantry shook his head as he thumbed his radio and contacted Dan in dispatch. "Dan, we're taking him to the hospital in my truck. Advise Berwick we're inbound."

_State's on the verge of closing the highway down, Ed. After this long..._

Sometimes it was more complicated than that. "Agent McGee is right, it's a doctor's call. Let them know."

_Understood._

Carla returned with the canvas Ed kept in case he had to crawl under the truck. It was still damp from when he'd put the chains on the truck, but it would do.

With Carla helping, they rolled Jackson. Tim stopped only long enough for that to be accomplished. Once the tarp was under him, they rolled him back and waited while Tim performed another two rounds of compressions. Once that was done, Ed and Tim lifted Jackson, using the heavy canvas as a makeshift gurney. It worked and they quickly moved to the truck.

Tim staggered when he got to his feet, but forced himself to keep going. He jumped in the back of the truck and finished pulling Jackson inside. A group of children were gathering and one of the teenagers quickly ushered them back into a nearby house. Carla hesitated, but she didn't know CPR and failing vision left her unable to drive in near whiteout conditions.

Gantry remembered the anger and frustrations when Carla's eyesight forced her early retirement from teaching. "It's okay, Carla, we've got this." He closed the tailgate on the truck bed before closing the back gate on the camper shell that covered it. Once behind the wheel, Gantry leaned over his shoulder to talk to Tim through the back window. "Brace yourself, it's going to be a rough ride."

Tim didn't answer him, already back in his rhythm and praying that the thirty seconds he lost while they moved him wouldn't be the straw that broke the camel's back.

-NCIS-

Ellie blinked and turned to Tony as Gibbs growled his announcement and kicked the small door open hard enough that the door knob left a dent in the wall. "Is he always this intense for a search warrant?"

Tony's ears were already ringing from when Gibbs didn't think he was moving fast enough. "Umm, no, but we're not going to anything to distract him, okay?"

She nodded, as did Dorneget from the other side of him.

"Okay, let's do this." One by one, guns drawn, they entered the warehouse and spread out. If any of their suspects were there, DiNozzo almost felt sorry for them.

-NCIS-

"Hang on." Gantry felt the back of the truck start to slide when they were half way over the small bridge. He corrected and sent up a prayer that the wheels would catch. Eventually they did, but not before the back corner of the truck bed hit the rail, hard. It jarred him badly enough up front, he hated to think about what it had felt like back there. "You okay?"

There wasn't an answer, but he could hear Tim's continually muttered count. Once they were off the bridge, he risked a glance back and saw some of the gear he carried had fallen across McGee, who didn't even bother to shove himself free until he stopped to breathe for Jackson. Cursing under his breath, Gantry tried to speed up as much as he dared. The road had a slight dip to it, not enough to ever be noticeable under normal circumstances, but today it was enough for the truck to slide again, spinning enough that they went through the intersection backwards. Luckily, no one else was attempting to cross the road.

In the back of the truck, Tim continued to work. He remembered everything the training class had taught him about sudden cardiac arrest and the survival rates, but he was clinging onto the slim thread of hope because there were no absolutes according to Ducky. At least he was no longer sweating, even though he wished he could lose the heavy coat.

They went around a slight curve in the road and the truck slid again. This time they ended up in someone's field, but Gantry eventually got them back on the road. He asked dispatch to let them know their current location. It wasn't much, but he had to do something.

-NCIS-

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Umm, clear, sir."

Gibbs shoved his SIG back in his holster as he glared. "Let's start searching these crates and don't call me sir, Dorneget."

"Yes, sir, I mean, Agent Gibbs, sir." Dorneget winced as he squeaked out an answer. Tony had a more pressing concern.

"Boss, there's a lot of boxes in here."

"Then get with it, DiNozzo. They're not going to unpack themselves."

-NCIS-

"We're here." It wasn't a pretty parking job, but Gantry got the truck backed into the emergency entrance as an assortment of medical personnel rushed out to greet them. Hands reached in and quickly pulled Jackson out. He was laid on a gurney and rushed inside, a doctor finally taking over the CPR.

Gantry held back until they were clear, then gave Tim a hand out of the truck, grabbing him as his legs buckled. "Easy, kid, I've got you."

"Gibbs, I need to let Gibbs know." Tim pulled away enough to reach for his phone, only to discover it was still on the floor in Jackson's living room. "Damn it, my phone."

"Don't worry about it right now. I'll get the number." They made it into the building and Gantry steered him toward a row of chairs as he tried to get a nurse's attention. "Let's get this coat off of you, okay? You're looking a mite too warm for this time of the year."

Becoming confused, Tim struggled with Gantry for a moment before sagging in the chair and letting the Sheriff remove his coat as if he were a child. "Can they save him?"

Gantry froze, then laid his hand on Tim's drooping head. "You did everything you could, son."

"It wasn't enough, was it?"

Gantry didn't know how to answer him, but he knew Tim felt way too hot. A nurse was coming closer and he raised his voice enough for her to hear him. "Let's get you checked out, okay? Jackson would want that."

"No, not until we know about Jackson." McGee shook off the helping hand and turned to stare at the door they'd disappeared behind with Jack a few moments ago.

-NCIS-

"Vitals?" Dr. Owens looked to his lead nurse, who shook her head. "Damn it. How long ago did he go down?"

The nurse that had been on the phone with the dispatcher rolled the defibrillator up next to the bed. "It's been more than seventy five minutes, but he's had CPR the entire time."

Hoping for the best, but knowing just how slim the chances were, Owens had the CPR stopped and applied the defibrillator paddles. Jackson's body jumped, but there was no reaction from his heart. The two nurses that were giving him CPR resumed as the machine recharged and a quick IV line was started. Medication was forced in and a second round of shock was given.

"Come on, come on."

"No inversion, Doctor."

"Again."

"No response."

"Push another 50cc's, up the charge."

"It's in."

"Let's hit him again."

"Still nothing."

"Resume CPR."

"Again."

"Nothing."

"Again."

"No response."

"Another 50cc's"

"Maximum charge."

"Again."

"No response."

"Damn it."

"Doctor?"

He hated to let death win. "How long since the original cardiac arrest?"

"Two hours, nineteen minutes since the first call to 911."

"Damn it." Repeating himself, Owens reached over and silenced the machine. "Time of death?"

She looked up at the clock to get the official time. "1447."

"Did somebody come in with him?"

"There's two men in the waiting room."

-NCIS-

Tim was still arguing with Gantry and the nurse when movement caught his eye. He looked up just as a man in blue scrubs stepped out. One look at the doctor's face and Tim knew. "You never got him back, did you?"

"I'm sorry."

"I... I have to make a phone call."

Gantry handed over his own phone, but Tim dialed a different number. Some things you didn't do over the phone.


	3. My Father is Dead

"Tony, take the evidence to Abby. Bishop, start doing a background check on the names we found." Gibbs barely slowed down on his way upstairs to check in with McGee. The doctor's appointment wasn't until tomorrow, but he wanted to make sure he was going to get them dug out in time to get there. Rubbing his stomach, he'd barely sat down when his phone rang.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

_Agent Gibbs, the Director would like to see you in his office right away._

"On my way." Still wound up from the search and his gut pinging, Gibbs bounced back to his feet and headed for the stairs. Pamela waved him through with a strange look on her face.

"You wanted to see me, Leon?"

"Have a seat, Gibbs." Vance was sitting at his desk, a grave expression on his face, and Ducky was standing next to him, equally sad.

Already suspecting, Gibbs sank into the chair. "My father?"

"I'm so sorry, Jethro."

"He was supposed to see the doctor..." Gibbs closed his eyes. "Tomorrow. Just one more day – one more damn day. Was... was McGee with him?"

"Yes." Ducky took over since he'd already talked to the doctor in Berwick. "It appears Jackson suffered a sudden cardiac arrest. Timothy performed CPR, did everything possible, but the doctors were unable to resuscitate him."

Gibbs didn't say anything for a moment, just rubbed at his mouth, before he stood up. "I need – need to go up there and – and take care of him."

Vance had never seen the man looking so lost. "Of course, Jethro. Your leave is already taken care of. You have more than enough saved up, take as much time as you need."

Falling silent again, Gibbs nodded and walked out the door. Worried, Ducky turned to Vance. "Since I have no current guests downstairs, I would like to go with Jethro. Make sure Jackson is properly taken care of and answer any questions Jethro might have."

Under the circumstances Vance had already figured that would be the best option. "Of course. Keep me posted as to the arrangements. I'll make sure the team gets there when it's time."

"Unless Jethro says something to them himself, which I doubt he will, it would be better if you break the news to Tony and Abby after Jethro and I have left the Yard. They will certainly mean well, but I suspect Jethro will need a bit of time before he can handle any sympathy, even from those he cares about deeply."

Vance nodded at the sage suggestion. "Understood."

-NCIS-

Gibbs returned to his desk and dropped down in his chair, mechanically going through the motions to make sure that everything that would normally go to him as team leader would be forwarded to Tony while he was gone.

_My father is dead._

He was vaguely aware of Bishop sitting on the floor next to her desk with an assortment of papers strewn around her.

_My father is dead._

HR needed to be notified, that was agency protocol, but he'd never had to do it before. Forcing his hands to stay steady, Gibbs opened the necessary window.

_My father is dead._

HR already had his bereavement leave recorded. He stared at the words for a minute before he remembered that Vance had said it was taken care of. Closing that back out, he searched for his car keys. He'd need to top off the tank before he left and call to let his dad know... He took a shaky breath.

_My father is dead._

No calls. Suit, he'd need his suit. He'd need his suit for the funeral.

_My father is dead._

Gibbs jumped as a hand was laid on his shoulder. When he looked up, Ducky's compassionate face filled his view. "I'm sorry, Jethro. Jackson was a good man. Now, why don't I drive us? Director Vance has authorized the use of an agency sedan."

When he got a slight nod, Ducky continued, wanting to get Gibbs moving and out of the building before it finally hit him. "Why don't you fetch your go bag and I'll meet you in the parking lot in a few minutes."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks, Duck."

Ducky squeezed his shoulder once again before stepping away, not noticing Bishop on the floor behind her desk.

-NCIS-

The problem with being the new kid on a team that had been together for years was the fact that it was easy to miss the subtle nuances as the rest of them worked together. She didn't have a clue what was going on, only that it started when McGee testimony suddenly wasn't needed. Thus, she stayed quiet and kept her head down when Gibbs returned from the Director's office. She was still quiet when Ducky arrived, obviously not used to looking down onto the floor for her.

Ellie felt bad for eavesdropping, but when she heard Ducky talking she knew making her presence known would be worse. Once Ducky and then Gibbs left the squad room, she grabbed her phone.

-NCIS-

"This is everything? You guys spent hours at the scene and this is all you bring me back? I'm beginning to think you don't love me, Tony, and where is Gibbs? I haven't seen him all day." Abby took the small pile of evidence bags and started spreading them out.

Tony casually tried to stretch his arms. "Hey, don't blame me, we looked. Eight hundred and twelve crates and eight hundred and eleven of them were filled with gears and ball bearings."

Trying to look sympathetic, Abby failed when the side of her mouth twitched. "You had to pry all of them open?"

"Yep, and no McGeek to help with the grunt labor. Any idea when he's getting back?" Tony sat on the stool and snuck a sip of Abby's CafPow before shuddering at the taste. She glared at him and took the cup back, setting it out of his reach.

"He's not back? I heard his testimony was canceled."

Tony pulled out his phone. "Let's find out because we could sure use him back here." He dialed McGee's number, but it immediately went to voice mail. "That's weird, maybe he's on his flight back."

Before Tony could put his phone away, it rang, startling him. He expected it to be McGee, but the display showed Bishop. Figuring it was a heads up that Gibbs was looking for him, he took a deep breath before answering. "Hey, Bishop, what's up?"

_Who's Jackson?_

"What about Jackson?" Tony looked over at Abby, who was listening to his side of the conversation.

_Is he somebody important?_

Tony didn't like the way this was heading. "Yeah, what about him? Just tell me, Bishop." Her voice sounded very timid when she answered.

_I think he's dead, Tony._

"Dead? Jackson's dead?" Tony was only vaguely aware of Abby bursting into tears next to him. "Bishop, how do you know, what did you hear?" She was crying by the time she'd related the entire conversation she'd overheard.

_What do we do, Tony?_

"You keep working on what Gibbs told you. I'll take care of it."

_I'm sorry._

"Yeah, me too, kid." Tony disconnected the call and held an arm out. Abby immediately burrowed against him.

"What are we going to do, Tony?"

"We're going up there."

-NCIS-

"Need to stop at the house. Need my black suit."

"Of course, Jethro. Is there anything else that needs to be done before we get on our way?"

Gibbs leaned against the roof of the sedan. "No. We're used to hitting the road in a hurry. Never for..." He sighed and hung his head. "Not like this."

"This is the one trip we never think we will take, Jethro." Ducky waited for Gibbs to climb in the passenger side before he got behind the wheel and started the engine. "No matter how much we try to prepare ourselves for it."

Gibbs was silent until they left the Yard. "Appreciate this, Ducky."

"Jackson was your father, but he was also my friend. He would expect this of me and I am glad to do it, even if I regret the circumstances."

"Should have told the team, but can't quite say the words yet."

It was the closest Ducky had ever seen his old friend to breaking down and he reached over to touch his arm. "That's very understandable, Jethro. Leon has promised to break the news and to release the rest of the team to be in Stillwater in time for the funeral."

"Good. That's good." Gibbs' voice trailed off as he stared out the side window.

-NCIS-

"Tony?" Bishop scrambled to her feet as DiNozzo came into the squad room.

He shook his head as he grabbed his pack. "If Vance looks for me, tell him I went to talk to a witness, okay?"

"Tony..."

He pointed at her as he walked away. "Cover for me, Bishop." Not letting her say anything else, he waved as he left the room.


	4. Arrival

**a/n - I've been playing whack-a-troll, the same troll that went after _Backfired_. If it gets too bad, I may have to limit reviews to only signed ones, but we'll see just how badly she annoys me this time out.**

* * *

Gibbs wasn't particularly talkative under the best of circumstances, so Ducky wasn't offended by the silence as they drove up toward Pennsylvania. Two hours north of DC the snow on the road was getting heavy enough that Ducky was glad for the silence so that he could concentrate on driving.

Eventually Gibbs shifted and turned to Ducky. "Duck, let me drive, okay?"

"Jethro, I am perfectly capable of driving in poor weather. Did I ever tell you about the winter I spent in..." Ducky glanced over and saw the expression on Gibbs' face. He was a man that desperately needed something to do, something that would keep his attention. "Very well, Jethro. I'll pull off at the next exit and we can top off the tank while we're at it."

-NCIS-

"Bishop, where is Agent DiNozzo?"

She froze, then plastered on what she hoped was a calm expression. "I believe he said something about interviewing a witness, Sir."

"I see. And Miss Sciuto?"

"I don't know, Sir." At least that was an honest answer.

Vance didn't look at all convinced, but he didn't call her on it. "When you hear from him, tell him I need to see him in my office. Miss Sciuto, too, if you happen to see her."

"Of course, Director Vance." She didn't take a deep breath until he was gone.

-NCIS-

Tank filled, Ducky climbed in the passenger side, allowing Gibbs to get behind the wheel, but he didn't hand over the keys right away. "Remember, Jethro, Berwick, not Stillwater."

Much of the talk in Vance's office was a blur, but Gibbs remembered something about Berwick. "They took him to the hospital there?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Gibbs nodded stiffly as he took the keys. Ducky was a little worried at first, but Gibbs drove smoothly, especially considering the condition of the roads. Eventually he was able to pull in behind a snow plow which helped the drive considerably.

-NCIS-

"We could have taken my car. We might have caught up with them by now."

Tony shook his head as he changed lanes. He'd spent the extra money to rent an all-wheel drive rather than a standard car. "Your hot rod really isn't built for driving in this amount of snow, Abs."

She knew he was right, but she still hated the delay. Before she could argue some more, Tony pointed to the laptop she'd brought with her. "I don't think Stillwater has a hospital so do whatever you have to do to figure out where they're going."

"Won't Gibbs go home to Stillwater?"

"Eventually, but he'll go to wherever Jackson's... wherever Jackson is, to say goodbye."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Tony risked taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at her. "If it were my dad, that's what I'd do."

"I guess you're right." Abby stared off into space for a moment before she thought of something. "We should try and call McGee again. He should know."

Tony wasn't sure why she was telling him this as she was the one in the passenger seat. "Driving here, Abs."

It took her a few more minutes, but eventually she pulled out her phone and tried to call McGee. Just like before, it went straight to voice mail. She left him a message to call her back before closing her phone. "I guess he's still in the air."

"Guess so."

-NCIS-

They'd put another fifty miles behind them before Gibbs spoke again, but Ducky could see the question forming in his eyes long before the words came. "Do you know any details about how he... what happened?"

"Not a great deal, I'm afraid." Ducky thought about how best to describe the conversation. "Timothy sounded quite stunned and shaken. He did not want you to hear this over the phone and felt you had the right to be told in private. He... he kept telling me that he tried, he really tried to save him, Jethro."

"I know he did, Duck. McGee wouldn't do anything less."

Ducky was worried about what the guilt would do to McGee. "He was quite distraught that he was unable to save him."

Gibbs got what he was telling him. "I'll make sure he's okay. It's the least..." Gibbs swallowed hard. "I owe him that much."

The rest of the drive was silent until they arrived at the hospital. Gibbs started to pull into the small parking lot attached to the emergency department, then jerked the wheel to continue on to the main lot. He gave Ducky a sad look as he explained. "Not really an emergency anymore, is it?"

"Oh, Jethro." Ducky really didn't know what else to say as they parked and made their way to the main entrance. It was late enough that the front desk was shut down and a sign directed them to the 24-hour desk in the emergency department. Gibbs gave a bitter laugh and let Ducky lead him to the second desk.

The nurse was appropriately sympathetic and let Gibbs know that his father's body was in a small room ready for a private goodbye whenever he was ready.

"Thank you, ma'am." Gibbs looked around, expecting to see McGee. "Do you know where Timothy McGee is, he... he brought my father in."

"Leroy?"

Gibbs turned just as Ed Gantry walked up to him, hand held out. "I'm so sorry about Jackson, he was good people." He pulled Gibbs closer as they shook hands and clapped him on the back in a show of support.

"It was his heart?"

"Yeah, I think so. Your boy was giving him CPR when I got there, didn't stop until we got to the hospital."

Ducky spoke up, becoming concerned. "Where is Agent McGee now?"

"Damn near killed himself trying to save Jackson. They've got him in the back, giving him IV's and monitoring him pretty close. Might have a cracked rib or two, haven't heard what the x-ray showed."

Gibbs had never dreamed that there had been any sort of risk for McGee. "I don't understand. What happened?"

Ducky steered them toward a group of chairs in a nearby corner and Ed waited until they were all sitting down before he started to explain.

"You sure you want to hear all of this?"

Gibbs just nodded, hands tightly gripping the arm rests on the chair.

"Okay, near as I could figure, your man was out shoveling the sidewalk and the driveway. He was wearing Jackson's heavy coat and most of the snow had been cleared. Your dad collapsed in the living room and Tim apparently got to him quick, probably within seconds. Dropped his phone on the floor so he could call 911 and start the CPR at the same time. Boy didn't even stop long enough to take off the coat."

Ducky took a deep breath, suspicious as to what had felled McGee, but he remained silent as the Sheriff continued to explain. "He was alone with Jackson, handled the compressions and the breathing all by himself."

"You mean until the ambulance arrived."

Gantry shook his head. "Sorry, Leroy. The ambulance crashed and didn't make it. By then, there was a big pile up on Interstate Eighty and every ambulance in three counties was there. It had already been about thirty minutes, you understand, but Tim wouldn't give up. He was still working on your dad when I got there, refused to give up." Ed closed his eyes for a moment as he remembered.

"We used a tarp to carry him out to my truck, got him in the back and Tim started right back with the CPR. Didn't miss a beat. Other than the thirty or forty seconds it took to get Jackson in the truck, he didn't stop until we were here at the hospital and the medics took over. Not when we slid off the road, not when we slammed into the bridge and not even when the cabinet of emergency gear in my truck tipped over and landed on him. This time of the year, it didn't even dawn on me when he stopped sweating.

"Hell, Leroy, I didn't even realize the kid was in trouble until after we'd been here for a while. I thought he was just a little overheated, you know."

Ducky was pretty sure he knew what happened. "His core body temperature continued to rise, I am assuming. He sounded very upset and traumatized when I spoke to him on the phone, but it was more than that, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, his phone got left back at the house and he had trouble remembering your number. Heck, with the phones nowadays and their programmed numbers, I think we all do, so I didn't think too much about it. When he ended the call, he just hit the ground."

"But he's going to be all right?"

"Guess we're going to find out." Gantry pointed out a doctor coming towards them. As soon as he was close enough to talk, Gantry made the introductions. "Jethro, this is Dr. Owens. He tried to save your dad, and now he's taking care of Tim."

"Mr. Gibbs?" Owens shook his hand. "I am so sorry for your loss, we did everything we could."

"Appreciate that, Doc. Sounds like you've had your hands full here today."

"It's been different, I must admit. Agent McGee will be glad to hear you've arrived. Maybe that will help him calm down. I'm afraid he's taking your father's death very personally."

Gibbs had been afraid of that ever since he'd heard the story. "I'd like to see him, he's going to be okay, right?"

"We've got his core temperature back down close to normal and he's been given fluids. X-rays showed no broken bones, but he's got some nasty bruises forming. I was going to admit him overnight for observation, but he became quite agitated at the suggestion. If there's someone that can stay with him for the next day or two, then I'd feel better about releasing him."

"He'll be with me."

Ducky had been planning on volunteering, but Gibbs had jumped in before Ducky could even open his mouth. Once he thought about it for a second, Ducky realized that it was a better option. Only Gibbs could get through McGee's guilt and Jethro needed to be doing something right now and taking care of the younger man was an excellent option.

Dr. Owens apparently thought so too. "Then I'll authorize his release as long as this last round of tests comes back clean. We just did a MRI to make sure there's no internal damage. You can sit with him while I review his results."

"Thank you. I'd also like to see my father."

"Of course. Janice can take you back whenever you're ready."

Gibbs nodded at the nurse and stepped forward just as two familiar voices could be heard behind them. He flinched at Abby's loud tone as she was obviously wound up. Ducky glared at them for a moment before turning back to Gibbs. "You go see Timothy, I'll deal with the children."

Gibbs nodded again, this time in gratitude, before following the nurse through the secure doors into the emergency room.

Ducky crossed the room to meet Tony and Abby, arms crossed over his chest and with a glare that would have impressed even Gibbs. "What, exactly, are the two of you doing here?"

Abby was crying again. "But Ducky, Gibbs needs us here. Why didn't he stay? He needs a hug."

"Abigail..."

"But..."

Determined, Ducky put his foot down. "I know Director Vance did not tell you about Jackson. Not in time for the two of you to be here already."

Tony was seeing the error in their plan. "The Boss doesn't want us here, does he?"

"Not yet, Tony." Ducky sighed, remembering how hard this would be for all of them. "Give the man time to process what has happened."

"What did happen, Ducky?"

Ducky directed them to the same row of chairs he and Gibbs had been sitting at earlier. He looked around, but Gantry had subtly slipped away. Grateful for the privacy, Ducky explained what he knew so far.

-NCIS-

Tim was struggling to stand, IV still in his arm, when Gibbs walked through the door. Ignoring the nurse, he quickly stepped close, cupping Tim's face in his hands. "Easy, easy."

"I'm sorry, I tried. I really tried."

Mindful of the line to the IV, Gibbs pulled him closer until their foreheads were touching. "I know, Tim. I know. No one could have done more."

"But it wasn't enough." Tim's voice broke. "Not enough."

"Sometimes it has to be. At least he wasn't alone." This time it was Gibbs' voice that broke. "At least my father didn't die alone."

Gibbs helped Tim back up on the exam table just as Dr. Owens walked back in. "All right, Mr. McGee, I have you test results here and luckily you suffered no permanent damage. I'm going to examine you one last time and then I'll send you home with your friend here."

Giving Tim what he hoped was an encouraging smile, Gibbs stepped back to give the doctor room. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Tim."

Janice was waiting right outside the exam room and led Gibbs down the hall. "Take as much time as you need, sir."

-NCIS-

"DiNozzo still interviewing his witness?"

Ellie jumped at the sound of the Director's voice. "I... I guess so, Director Vance. I haven't heard anything from him."

Suspicious, Vance crooked his finger, indicating he wanted her standing in front of him and she slowly got up of the floor. "Did you hear any sort of discussion between Agent Gibbs and Dr. Mallard before they left"

Staring at her feet, she nodded, but remained silent.

"And what did you do about it?"

"I called Tony and asked him who Jackson was."

"I see. And that is when Agent DiNozzo left to interview his mystery witness?"

"Yes, Sir."

Vance was disappointed, but didn't have the heart to scold her. Instead, he settled for a glare, knowing he'd made his point as she winced. "Go home, Bishop. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

"Yes, Sir." She waited until he was part way up the stairs before she asked. "Sir, who was Jackson?"

Surprised that she hadn't figured it out, Vance turned around and went back downstairs. "You didn't research it?"

She shook her head. "I'm still working on the assignment Agent Gibbs gave me before you called him upstairs."

That deflated some of Vance's ire and he spoke softly. "Jackson Gibbs was Jethro's father. He was," Vance couldn't help but smile as he remembered. "Jackson was one of a kind, much like his son."

"I'm very sorry, Director Vance. I wish I'd have gotten to meet him."

"Good night, Bishop." Vance returned to his office to make a necessary phone call.

-NCIS-

The room was dim, lit by only one light near the head of the narrow bed. Gibbs walked slowly across the tile floor to stand next to the man he'd loved and hated for his entire life. Memories of his childhood danced across his mind, hours spent throwing a ball with his dad, sitting on his lap and steering their old truck, sneaking down the stairs to watch his parents dancing together in the living room on New Year's Eve, all moments he hadn't remembered for years.

"Ah hell, Dad, I'm sorry I wasted so many years. I should have been there with you more. I should have been with you today." Gibbs choked back a sob as he lowered his head.


	5. Goodbye

**a/n - Chapter 6 is done and I'm working on chapter 7 now, but _Frozen_ comes out on DVD today and I have a date with my grandkids. Don't worry, there will be struggles, but I'm not making anyone the enemy. It's just a group of people all reacting to their grief in different ways and at their own pace.**

* * *

Ducky was still staring at Tony and Abby. "Director Vance would have been telling the two of you right about now. Jethro is a private man, he would not want his grief to be a public spectacle."

Abby was still refusing to understand. "But we're not public, we're family. I mean, McGee's here, so why can't we?" To make her point, Abby leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms defiantly.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache that was forming. "This is what Gibbs wants, Abby."

"I don't believe it."

Before Ducky or Tony could reason with her any further, Ducky's phone rang. He sighed as he read the display. "Good evening, Director Vance. Oh, yes, they're here all right."

Without another word, Ducky handed the phone to Tony, who had a slightly panicked look on his face. "Sir?"

_If you expect me to stand your team down when Gibbs **is** ready for your support, you'll have your ass back here by morning. Is that understood?_

"Yes, Sir." He closed the phone and handed it back to Ducky. "Come on, Abby."

"No."

"NOW, Abby."

Tony had never yelled at her before and she stared at him for a few seconds before reacting. "Fine." As she stood, she shoved one of her gloves between the cushions.

-NCIS-

Gibbs wiped at his eyes and took a calming breath before brushing his hand across the sheet covering his father's body. Next he bent down and pressed his lips against his father's forehead.

"Bye, Dad. Say hi to Mom for me, okay?"

Goodbyes said, Gibbs carefully lifted the folded edge of the sheet and straightened it to cover Jackson's head. Once that was done, he smoothed every wrinkle out of the cotton fabric and said a silent prayer. Only then did he walk out of the room. The nurse that had brought him back was still standing there.

"Thank you, Janice. I appreciate everything that was done for him."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. The haircut, the stoic expression, the extreme politeness in the face of grief, she knew she was talking to a military man. "I wish we could have done more."

"There is one thing." He almost hesitated, but knew that in the long run he and McGee would both need the answers. "The gentleman that came with me is a medical examiner. I'd like him to be the one to examine my father's remains and to handle any other arrangements."

It was an unusual request, but not impossible. Janice gave him her professional smile again. "I'm sure it won't be a problem. I'll get the necessary paperwork together for both you and he to sign before you leave. You're waiting for Mr. McGee to be released, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll get right on it. Do you need help finding your way back to his room?"

Gibbs shook his head as he pointed down the right hallway before he started walking. She followed behind, not close, but close enough that she could help him if he got lost.

-NCIS-

Gibbs arrived back in Tim's room just as Dr. Owens was finishing his exam. "Well?"

"I'm going to release him, but," Owens gave a look to Tim before turning to fully address Gibbs, suspecting that would be the best way to make sure his orders were followed. "I want him to take it easy for the next few days. His body is going to have trouble regulating his temperature while he's recovering, so make sure he doesn't do anything that will get him overheated or chilled. No caffeine, either."

Even under the circumstances, Gibbs almost laughed at the expression on McGee's face at that restriction. "I'll make sure of it. Appreciate everything you and your team did, both for my father and for especially for Tim."

"Well, it's not every day we get to treat a case of heat stroke in the middle of a blizzard."

Tim was dressed and carefully slid off the stretcher, standing up as he retrieved the borrowed coat. Gibbs was right there and wrapped a supportive arm around his waist. He was worried about what he'd find in the waiting room, but when he and McGee walked out, Ducky was sitting there alone.

"Ah, Timothy, how are you feeling, lad?"

Staring at the floor, Tim just gave a slight shrug. Worried, but not wanting to push, Gibbs eased him down into one of the chairs, dropping the coat in another. "I've got to sign some paperwork, then we can leave, okay?"

This time he got a nod. Worried, he looked over at Ducky. When they made eye contact Gibbs jerked his head to the side, wanting to talk to him in private before the nurse came back.

They moved a few feet off to the side and Gibbs leaned close, keeping his voice low. "Duck, I'd like you to take care of my dad, examine him and make sure everything's taken care of."

"Of course, I was planning on it, Jethro."

The door to the emergency department opened and Janice stepped out with a large stack of papers and waved them over. Hospital policy stated that anything related to the death of a patient be handled in private so she led them back and into a small room behind the main nurses station.

-NCIS-

Abby and Tony had just stepped out of the lobby when she made a show of looking for her other glove. "I have to go back, Tony, I've only got one of my gloves." Without waiting for an answer, she practically ran back inside.

Tony cursed under his breath, suspicious that losing her glove was no accident. Knowing that she was up to something, he ran after her. By the time he'd caught up with her, she was standing in front of McGee.

"Why are you acting like it was worse for you? We loved him, too."

Tim looked up at her as she stood over him. "Abby..."

She was on a roll and never slowed down. "Why didn't you save him, McGee? Tony saved Gibbs' life. He pulled him out of the water and didn't stop until Gibbs was breathing again, isn't that right, Tony?"

Tony was slow to react, not having realized that Abby even knew he was in back of her. "Yeah, that's right, but..."

"But nothing."

Before Abby could go any further, Sheriff Gantry showed up with a tray of drinks. "There a problem here, folks?"

"No, no problem, we were just leaving." Tony grabbed Abby's arm and tugged her away from McGee, stopping just long enough to snatch the 'missing' glove from under the edge of the cushion where Abby had been sitting earlier.

-NCIS-

Gibbs let Ducky and Janice sort out the paperwork, just signing where he was told. Eventually, everything was signed and Janice started the process of pulling apart the copies for the family and each department and agency involved. Gibbs used the break to ask Ducky about what had happened earlier. "Tony and Abby understand?"

Ducky debated how much to tell him. "Mostly, I believe. Tony more than Abby, of course. I do believe the call from Director Vance probably encouraged that, however."

Gibbs gave him a questioning look and Ducky sighed. "Leon and I felt it would be easier on you if he waited and told them after we'd left DC, give you some time to focus on your own needs and not worry about anyone else. Unfortunately, and I don't know how, they found out almost immediately."

"Bishop."

"What?"

"Bishop was working on the floor behind her desk."

"Oh, heavens." Ducky closed his eyes for a moment as he realized that he, himself, had let the cat out of the bag. "Then this was my fault. I'm afraid I am not used to checking the floor for your team."

Gibbs gave a slight tilt to his head. "She does her best work sitting on the floor, especially if she's got junk food." He thought about it for a moment. "She probably heard, didn't recognize the name and asked Tony about it."

"That would be my guess as well, Jethro. The upshot is that Tony and Abby apparently walked out of the building without talking to anyone about it. They certainly didn't go to Vance and ask permission."

"And in the middle of a case. Great, just great."

"Yes, well, Director Vance was quite adamant about it – they have to be back at work first thing in the morning if they want expect to be able to come to Jackson's funeral. If they have any sense, they didn't slow down until they were back to their car."

-NCIS-

Watching the two leave the waiting room, Ed Gantry sat down next to McGee. The tray of drinks was set on the small table and he picked up a bottle of apple juice. He gave the lid a twist to break the seal before handing it to Tim. "Here, you could probably use something to bring your blood sugar back up a little."

"Thanks." Tim really didn't want anything, but he took a few sips anyway as Gantry watched him.

"What are you doing out here by yourself?"

Tim picked at the label. "Gibbs and Ducky went to sign the paperwork so Ducky can do the autopsy instead of the local medical examiner."

Gantry was a little surprised. "Why? There's no foul play involved and nothing suspicious. It was sad, but pretty cut and dried."

"Yeah, well," Tim thought about the accusation. He knew Abby was hurting, but it had still stung. "Some people think I didn't do enough."

Since he'd heard the tail end of the conversation, Gantry knew exactly who he was talking about. He tapped Tim's arm. "Hey, I was there. Nobody could have done more to save him. It just wasn't meant to be. Don't let anybody convince you otherwise."

Point hopefully made, Gantry looked up as Gibbs and Ducky returned. He offered a cup to each of them. "Here, thought you could use a cup of coffee about now, Leroy."

"Thanks, Ed." Gibbs gratefully took the cup and even Ducky was ready for something to drink as Gibbs made the introductions.

"Jackson talked about you, Dr. Mallard. Just wish we were finally meeting under better circumstances."

Pleasantly surprised to find tea in his cup, Ducky accepted the handshake. "As do I, and it's Ducky, please."

"The road to Stillwater won't be cleared until morning. You guys staying here in Berwick tonight or do you want to ride back with me?"

Gibbs glanced over at Ducky, knowing that he would be doing the post-mortem exam first thing in the morning. Even if he did the driving back to Stillwater, that meant Ducky would be driving back either late that night or before sunrise. "Ducky has to stay close to here, but Tim and I could use a ride to Stillwater."

Ducky nodded in agreement. "Then I will see the two of you later tomorrow. With any luck, the plows will have been through by then."

"Probably a good idea. You don't want to be on that road more than you have to unless you've got four wheel drive."

"All right." Ducky laid a hand on Tim's shoulder. "You do nothing but rest until I'm there, tomorrow. Is that understood?"

"Yeah, Ducky. Thanks."

"Good." Ducky was a little more demonstrative with Gibbs, pulling him close enough to whisper in his ear as he patted his back. "I will take good care of Jackson. You have my word, Jethro."

Unable to speak through the lump in his throat, Gibbs just gave a nod. He covered his emotions by helping Tim into the coat before they stepped out into the cold weather. Ducky went outside with them and Gibbs retrieved his bag from the trunk of the sedan. Gantry pointed out a decent motel nearby and Ducky left. Gibbs watched until he turned the corner and then followed Gantry and Tim back to the truck.

-NCIS-

Ducky didn't wait until he was at the motel. As soon as he was out of sight of the hospital he pulled over and called Jimmy.

"Mr. Palmer, I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."

_Dr. Mallard, I was worried. Everybody seems to be vanishing here today._

"Yes, well, I'm afraid there's a very difficult reason for that. Jackson Gibbs died earlier today. I've come to Pennsylvania with Jethro to take care of his father."

_Oh, wow, I'm sorry. He was a nice old man. I mean, well..._

Ducky had to smile at his assistant's words. Jimmy meant well, but he was still horribly awkward at times. "It's quite all right, Mr. Palmer. Jackson had a good, long life. Jethro was worried about his father and had Agent McGee stop by on his way back from Rochester."

_Was Jackson dead when Tim found him?_

"No, but he suffered a fatal cardiac arrest only a few hours later. Timothy performed CPR by himself for over an hour and a quarter until they could get to help, but it was unsuccessful." Ducky could hear the sorrow and worry in Palmer's voice.

_Oh, man, that's terrible. Tim's blaming himself, isn't he?_

For his awkwardness, Jimmy could be astute at times. "Yes, I'm afraid he is and that is why I have a job for you."

_Anything, Dr. Mallard. What can I do to help?_

"DiNozzo and Abigail showed up here tonight. I've sent them home, but I want you to make sure that they are not blaming Timothy. The poor fellow worked so hard trying to save Jackson that he actually suffered a heat stroke, believe it or not. He has nothing to feel guilty about."

Jimmy gave a low whistle.

_Wow, that's... wow. Yeah, I'll make sure they understand._

"Thank you, Mr. Palmer. That would be a relief."


	6. Heading Home

"Damn." Walking up to the truck, Gibbs saw the damage on the side. It wasn't enough to render the vehicle inoperable, but he could just imagine the jolt when it happened especially back in the bed of the truck where McGee was not only closer to the point of impact, but without a seat belt or other safety devices.

Gantry hadn't actually looked too closely at the crushed metal before. "Like I said, it was a wild ride. Here, you can throw your bag back here." He opened the back of the camper shell and continued on to the driver's side door.

Gibbs dropped his bag inside and slowly looked around the bed of the truck, where much of the fight for his father's life had happened. An old canvas tarp was rumpled up and shoved to the side, showing the thick plates of metal that were stacked on the bed. A large storage cabinet was laying on its side, the ripped out bolts showed just how hard of hit they'd taken. Closing his eyes for a moment, he could imagine his father laying there, Tim frantically bent over him, forcing the blood to circulate through his body. Blocking the image from his mind, Gibbs closed the door and turned the handle to latch it before walking around to the passenger door of the cab. Tim was already sitting in the middle and Gibbs climbed in without a word.

Ed wasn't much of a talker either and Tim was too exhausted to say much, so the trip back to Stillwater was relatively quiet. Tim fell asleep part way there and Gibbs tugged him back enough that he could lean against Gibbs' shoulder.

The snow got deeper the closer they got to Stillwater and eventually the truck slowed down to a crawl.

"Was it this bad coming in?"

Gantry gave a snort. "Oh, yeah. At least the wind has died down now. The snow was still coming down then and it was mostly sideways. Remember the Winter of our junior year, the storm that closed school for almost a week?"

Gibbs' eyes widened at the reminder. He still gauged storms in comparison to that one. "That bad?"

"Pretty much. Didn't last as long, but last night and this morning was as bad as that one had been. Honestly, I didn't think we were going to make it to the hospital. Kept calling in our location to dispatch so they'd know where to send a rescue team."

So many things had gone wrong and all of them out of anyone's control. Gibbs couldn't help but wonder if the outcome had been different if his father had collapsed in the middle of a pleasant Spring day.

They passed a field where a vehicle had obviously gone off the road, a deep gouge left in the snow. Gibbs was pretty sure that was one of the problem's Gantry had mentioned, but he decided not to ask. Gantry noticed the expression on his face.

"You okay, Leroy?"

Gibbs gave a slight shake of his head. "It must have been one hell of a trip."

Driving back, he honestly wasn't sure how he'd managed it. "Yeah, it was."

-NCIS-

On the road back to DC, Tony looked over at his sulking passenger. "It really wasn't McGee's fault. He tried his best, Abby."

She sniffed and didn't answer him, but she didn't have to. Her words from earlier still rang through his head. _Tony saved Gibbs' life. He pulled him out of the water and didn't stop until Gibbs was breathing again, isn't that right, Tony? _ Could he have saved Jackson? Now that the question was in his head, he couldn't seem to let go of it.

-NCIS-

Stillwater looked the same as always, but it already felt empty to Gibbs. He knew, without a doubt, that when he finished here he would never return. Between Jackson's old truck and Tim's rental car, the driveway was full so Gantry just pulled over on the street. Other than the mailbox, there was no way to judge where the road ended and the front yard started, but Gibbs figured he was pretty close, not that he cared about the condition of the grass under all that snow.

Not bothering to shut off the engine, Ed leaned against the steering wheel. "Don't know how much food your dad kept in the house, but I imagine the casserole brigade has already started."

Jethro remembered the endless stream of food that arrived in the days and weeks after his mother's death. "Yeah, I imagine so." He woke Tim and once the younger man was standing upright next to the truck Gibbs went around to the back to grab his bag.

Once they were away from the truck, Gantry put it into gear, making a mental note to talk to Gibbs away from McGee at some point. "I'll check in with you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Ed."

The house was unlocked. Much like his son, Jackson didn't even have a key to his front door. Tim was looking flushed and Gibbs tugged the coat off of him. "You hungry?"

"Nah, not really."

Gibbs took a closer look at him and realized how rough he looked. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Breakfast." Gibbs looked like he was going to insist he eat and Tim shook his head. "I don't think I could keep anything down right now."

Gibbs couldn't really argue with that. "You staying in the upstairs guest room?" When Tim nodded, Gibbs turned him toward the stairs. "Go, get in bed and I'll bring you something to drink and some crackers or something so you can take some Tylenol, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." He ached all over and his shoulder and back were pretty painful. He slowly trudged up the stairs, aware of Gibbs watching him closely until he was safely in the upstairs hall.

In fact, Gibbs didn't move until he heard the bedroom door open and then close. Once he was sure Tim was safely in the bedroom, he moved to the kitchen. As he suspected, there were two casseroles already in the refrigerator, both with cooking instructions taped to the foil that covered them. Despite his sadness and exhaustion, Gibbs had to chuckle at the sight. One look at the food and he knew the cabbage roll casserole was from Mrs. Hannigan while the chicken and cheese ravioli casserole was from Mrs. Gunther. Nice woman, but she couldn't cook worth a damn. While he dug out a bottle of orange juice and poured a glass for McGee, he wondered how he could get rid of that one dish without offending the Mayor's wife.

-NCIS-

"You hungry?"

Abby just shrugged, so Tony took that as a yes and signaled to take the next off-ramp. They'd been on the road for a couple of hours and were finally past the worst of the snow. They found a decent restaurant and Tony ordered the prime rib while Abby just wanted a beer. "Food, Abby."

"I'm not hungry."

"Well, I'm eating and you're only getting one beer."

"Fine." She turned back to the waitress with a saccharine smile and ordered a bowl of clam chowder. Once the waitress was gone, she glared at Tony. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic." He waited for the explosion he knew was coming.

"I can't believe Ducky just kicked us out of there. If Gibbs really wanted to be alone, he'd have sent McGee back with us."

Tony bit back a groan. He'd seen her get like this, but usually it was Gibbs or Ducky that reigned her in or she just eventually wound down on her own, like with McGee and the dog. This time, Tony was the one that was going to have to deal with her hysterics. "You saw the look on Gibbs' face, Abs. Us being there – it was too much, too soon, and McGee's got a rental car sitting in Jack's driveway."

"Gibbs should have sent you to check on Jackson."

"Why? Tim was driving right past there, of course he'd be the one to stop. Besides, if Gibbs could have sent me, then he could have gone himself." Tony shook his head as he tried to reason with her. "There's not always a bad guy, Abby. Sometimes things just happen."

She started to sniffle again. "I can't believe he's gone, Tony."

"Yeah, me either."

-NCIS-

Gibbs went back upstairs to find McGee still fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You going to sleep in that sweatshirt tonight?"

Tim's face flushed dark red. "I can't raise my arms."

"Ah, hell, McGee." Gibbs stepped closer, depositing the pills and juice on the nightstand. "Let me give you a hand, okay?"

Not looking up, Tim gave a nod. "I'm sorry." He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth, knowing how Gibbs felt about apologies.

If there ever was a time to retire that rule, this would be it. Gibbs squatted down in front of Tim so that he could look him in the eye. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Tim. You're hurt because you tried so hard to save my dad, so let me help, okay?"

This time there was the slightest shadow of a smile and Gibbs carefully threaded Tim's arms out of the sweatshirt he was wearing. Tim shivered, but he felt rather warm to Gibbs who remembered the doctor's warning about McGee's body temperature while he was recovering.

Once the shirt was tossed aside, Gibbs untied Tim's shoes and pulled them off before helping Tim to stand back up. He rested his hands on Tim's waist to help balance him as Tim undid his jeans and stepped out of them. After Tim was laying down, Gibbs didn't hand over the juice and pills. "I want to check your temperature first, okay?"

The upstairs bathroom was seldom used, so Gibbs went back downstairs. His breath caught as he stepped into his father's bedroom, spotting his well worn robe laying across the foot of the bed. The Father's Day before they'd died, Shannon and Kelly had bought two. One for him and one for Jackson. He hadn't realized that after all these years Jackson still had the last gift from his beloved granddaughter. He sat heavily on the bed. "Oh, Dad."

Gibbs only allowed himself a few moments to grieve before he forced the emotions away. Continuing on into the bathroom he opened the medicine cabinet to find the glass thermometer in its expected place on the shelf. On the shelf below it was a glass bottle that brought a smile to his face. The label on the liniment bottle hadn't changed in forever it seemed. Taking the cap off and breathing deeply, Gibbs remembered watching his father use it on his own hands at the end of a long day of working and he remembered his mother laughing about the smell tickling her nose. But mostly he remembered his dad using it on his shoulder after a long session of football practice as they'd talk. The quiet man and the sullen teenager, they'd talk more in those few minutes than any other time of the day.

Carrying both items, he returned upstairs. Tim was laying on his side, his eyes widening as he saw what was in Gibbs' hand. "A glass thermometer? I haven't seen one of those in years."

Gibbs just gave him the look and slid it into Tim's mouth. Tim held still, tasting the remains of the alcohol used to sterilize the glass tube as his old childhood fear of biting the glass rose up in his mind.

Pleasantly surprised at how docile McGee was, Gibbs checked his watch. When the required time had passed he pulled the thermometer out and raised an eyebrow before pulling the blankets off of McGee. "Running a little warm there, McGee. Let's see if we can get you cooled back down."

Tim didn't look happy to be uncovered again, but he didn't fight as the blankets disappeared. However, he was a little surprised to find himself being lifted up to lay against Gibbs' chest. "What?"

Gibbs splashed a few drops of the liniment into his hands and started working on Tim's neck and shoulders to begin with. The deep groan made him smile. Tim grew heavier and heavier against him and by the time he was done rubbing both of his arms, Gibbs knew the other man was sound asleep.

It had been many years since he'd held someone while they slept. Gibbs continued to work the muscles in Tim's back and arms as he relished the solid weight against his chest and the delicate brush of breath against his throat. Worried about balancing Tim as he worked down onto his lower back, Gibbs shifted them so that he could lay back against the pillows with Tim draped across him.

Tim snuffled against him once before settling back down and Gibbs carried on with his massage, working the tight muscles until he felt them start to relax. Even then, Gibbs continued with long stokes the full length of Tim's back. It was comforting in a way and eventually the strokes slowed and he drifted off to sleep.


	7. Waking Up

Gibbs woke slowly, confused as to why he felt so comfortable. It took a moment to remember where he was, why Tim was snuggled up against him and the circumstances that brought him there.

_My father is dead._

Before yesterday, he might have just shoved McGee off of him, but somehow in the last twenty-four hours their relationship had changed on a fundamental level. Instead, he carefully eased him further over on the bed and slid out from under him. Gibbs waited a minute to make sure Tim was still sleeping before climbing out of the bed. Despite his care, Tim seemed to be waking and Gibbs stroked his hand over Tim's head, calming him and lulling him back to sleep. Once that appeared to be successful, quietly crept out of the room.

Out in the hall he pulled out his phone and made a quick call. At the slightly sleepy voice he winced, realizing how early it was.

_Gibbs?_

"Hey, Leon. Didn't realize what time it was."

_It's okay, just waiting for the coffee to finish. I've got to get the kids up for breakfast soon. How are you?_

He could hear the scraping of wood on tile and knew that Vance was moving away from the table to pour his coffee. "Been better, but I'm okay. Want to talk to you about Tony and Abby."

_Uh-huh._

"They meant well. Don't ride Tony too hard, okay?"

_Wasn't planning on it. Just enough to scare him a little._

Gibbs snorted at that. It had been his overriding philosophy with Tony for years. "Appreciate it."

_If they shows up here when they're supposed to, I'll scold them and then probably send them home for some sleep. Looks like your case is overlapping with an FBI case and under the circumstances I'm leaning towards letting them have it._

Gibbs hated to give up a case, but he had obligations he couldn't walk away from, McGee was recovering and the rest of the team was also distracted and hurting. "Might be for the best. Gonna take me more than a few days to take care of things here and McGee probably won't be medically cleared for at least a week."

_What happened to McGee? Don't tell me that he wrecked that rental car?_

Gibbs bit back an angry retort, but he was pretty sure Vance had heard his sharp intake of air. "No, he suffered a heat stroke trying to save my father's life. He collapsed in the hospital right after talking to Ducky."

_Wait, a heat stroke? In the middle of a snow storm?_

"Yeah, well, apparently that's what happens to you after you spend who knows how long all bundled up, shoveling the snow, trying to keep up with a blizzard, and then immediately run inside to start CPR and do that for over an hour because the damned ambulance crashed and never made it here and..."

_Easy, Gibbs, I didn't know._

"None of us did, but he was in rough shape for a while and the only reason he's out of the hospital right now is because I promised he'd be with me." Gibbs took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. "Just figure he'll be out as long as I will, maybe longer."

_All right, Gibbs. More than ever I think handing this case over to the FBI is the best option. I'll have DiNozzo and Bishop work with them for the next few days to transfer everything over smoothly before the funeral or whenever you're ready for the invasion._

Leaning against the wall, Gibbs rubbed the side of his face. "Thanks, Leon. I know that I'm asking for a lot right now."

_Hey, when Jackie... when Jackie died, you were there for me. You and McGee both. Did you know he handled the insurance company and the cleaning and repairs to the house? Then he handled the school and arranging to get the kid's schoolwork for them until they were ready to go back._

"No, I didn't, but I'm not surprised."

_Now it's my turn. One of the advantages of a smaller agency – we can take care of our own. Do what you need to do and I'll handle it on this end. Just keep me in the loop._

"I'll let you know." Gibbs closed his phone as he thought back to the days after Jackie Vance's murder. They'd all run themselves ragged, but he remembered McGee spending all of his free time on the phone. He was always one to work quietly in the background, getting things done, often without notice. Gibbs made a conscious promise to himself to notice and appreciate from now on.

Looking down at the time on his phone he realized that even if it were a normal day at work, he wouldn't be up quite yet. Decision made, he slipped back into the bedroom and finally toed off his shoes before laying back down. Without ever waking back up, Tim scooted towards the returning warmth and with a slight smile, Gibbs settled them back into their original position.

-NCIS-

After the half of a bowl of chowder and a full beer, Abby had slept most of the way back to DC. By the time they'd arrived and he'd gotten her home, it was really too late to bother sleeping, himself. Instead, Tony went home for a quick shower and then to the diner for breakfast.

Elaine looked up as he walked in the door. "Hey, handsome, you meeting the gang here?"

"Nah, just me this morning." He plastered on a smile and sat at the corner booth.

She handed him a menu and a cup of coffee. "You know Jethro almost always stops here for his morning coffee."

"Not this morning, he's up in Pennsylvania. His... his dad died yesterday."

"Jackson?" Elaine set the carafe down hard as she stared at Tony. "Oh, my word, I didn't even know he was ill."

Tony wanted to kick himself when he saw the look on her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you knew him."

"All those months he stayed with Jethro after that horrible woman shot up his store, they'd come in together at least once a day. Such a sweet man." She sighed and wiped at her eyes. "I'm guessing that Jethro isn't quite ready for sympathy yet?"

"You don't sound surprised."

Elaine glanced around, but it was still pretty deserted so she sat down across from Tony and patted his arm. "Honey, in our generation, men were raised up to not show their pain, especially not the pain of losing someone and certainly not to anyone who looks up to him."

"But an equal is okay?"

Her fingers waved around as she tried to remember names. "Tea and bow tie... Ducky, right? He'd be a good one to get through to Jethro right now."

"He's already there. The rest of us will go up in a few days."

"That sounds like a good plan." Elaine stood and refilled Tony's coffee even though he'd only had a few sips. "You give him my love when you see him. In fact, I'll do you one better. I'll send a care package up with you when you all go. Just let me know when."

"Thanks, Elaine."

"No problem, sweetie. I'll bring you your usual in a few minutes." Elaine smiled and waved at another customer as he came in, then went back to work.

-NCIS-

The second time Gibbs woke up, he remembered right away where he was and why. Still, he was surprised at how peaceful he felt, even as he realized that he was stroking his fingers up and down Tim's back.

He felt Tim's face rub against his chest then suddenly still, telling him the moment when the younger man woke up. Continuing to stroke his back, Gibbs kept his voice low and calm, not wanting McGee to feel guilty or uncomfortable being found laying on him. "Good morning, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay."

Gibbs knew, without a doubt, that if his arms weren't blocking the escape route, Tim would have been off the bed by now. "I doubt that, but are you feeling better?"

"Yeah."

Tim froze as Gibbs shifted them around. When he was done, they were laying side by side, facing each other, and Gibbs had one arm draped over Tim's side while huge green eyes stared up at him. "Nobody is expecting you to bounce back overnight after what you did yesterday."

Gibbs saw a flash of pain before the expressive eyes closed. "In the end, I didn't really do anything, Boss."

"Hey." His voice was sharp, to get McGee's attention. Once Tim was looking at him, his voice gentled as if he were talking to a victim, because, in a way, he was. "You drove all night in a storm that most people wouldn't have ever attempted. You were here, so my father wasn't alone for his last day on Earth. You fought to keep him alive and you fought harder and longer than anyone could have asked. My father didn't die alone and I don't have to ever wonder because I know you did every possible thing to keep him alive. You might see that as nothing, but to me it was everything."

Gibbs usually would have stopped there, but the intimacy of being only inches apart on the bed let the rest slip free. "That's something that is going to haunt me for the rest of my life about Shannon and Kelly. They were alone. The only person with them died at the scene, too. I'll never know if my wife was in pain, I'll never know if my little girl was calling for me. That's..."

Understanding now some of what was going on, Tim reached out and laid his hand on Gibbs' arm. "He wasn't feeling well, I could tell when I got here, but he still had that sense of humor of his."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Tim was glad he could share a little happiness with Gibbs. He thought for a few seconds to remember the exact words and tried to imitate Jack's deep voice. "When I told him I could just crash on the sofa, he said - _there's a perfectly good guest room upstairs. Or, you could get that DiNozzo character all in a tizzy by sleeping in Leroy's old room."_

Gibbs barked out a laugh and shook his head. "Oh, God, that sounds like Jack, all right." He turned serious as he raised up on one arm and rested his cheek on his fist. "Thank you. That's the kind of stuff that means a lot. Now, how about some breakfast? You need to get some food in your system."

Tim automatically climbed out of bed as soon as Gibbs was standing, but he swayed and would have fallen if Gibbs hadn't caught him. "Whoa, head rush."

"Lay back down, I'll bring the food to you." Gibbs didn't let go until he had Tim back in the bed and the sheet pulled back up. The worry showed on his face so Tim just nodded and stayed put when Gibbs brushed a hand over his head. "I'll be back in a few minutes with some more juice."

The jug he'd found in the fridge yesterday was still half full, so Gibbs poured two glasses and brought one of them back upstairs. Tim was sitting up when he walked back into the room. "Thought you were going to stay put?"

"Can't really drink laying flat, besides, I need to..."

"See a man about a horse?" He grinned a little at the blush.

"Yeah."

With no further teasing, Gibbs held onto his elbow as he stood and then walked with Tim to the bathroom in the hall. Gibbs let go of him there, letting him have the privacy he needed, but stayed close and was ready the moment the door opened back up. Once he had Tim back in bed, he returned downstairs to figure out what he could fix for their breakfast. The plows could be heard coming down the road and Gibbs relaxed a bit, knowing that would help Ducky's commute later.

-NCIS-

Snow plows in Stillwater meant that the state plow would detour and go down the main road once on its way back to the highway. This time, as a favor to the local sheriff, it would loop around to take care of one of the secondary roads. It was something that Gantry did on occasion when there was a death or a new baby in town. The neighbors all knew it so the cars had already been cleared off the road by the time Gantry pulled onto Jackson's street and parked in Carla's driveway as to not block the plow.

He knocked on the door and was greeted by Gibbs. Barefoot, but dressed in the clothes from the day before. "Hey, Ed."

"Morning, Leroy. Thought the kid could use this." Gantry held up a bag filled with bottles of Gatorade in assorted flavors he'd pulled out of his own kitchen.

"Great idea, thanks. Come on in. I was just getting some coffee started." Gibbs took the offered bag and led him back to the kitchen where the coffee making had obviously been interrupted.

Gantry looked around as they walked to the back of the house, but there was no sign of McGee. 'Tim upstairs?"

"Yeah. I want to get some food in him before he starts moving around too much." Practiced eyes had picked up on the worry and the careful looking around. "Is there a problem?"

"Hope not, but thought it best you knew." Gantry wasn't one for sugarcoating things either, one of their only shared traits during high school. "Tim had a couple of visitors when he was alone in the waiting room yesterday. Guy in a fancy suit, expensive haircut, looked familiar. Woman with black pigtails."

"They came back." Gibbs' eyes narrowed as he looked at Gantry. "You hear any of the conversation?"

Gantry leaned back against the counter by the stove. "Not much. The woman was harping on him, guy dragged her out when I arrived and asked if there was a problem. Thing is, when I talked to Tim afterward, he said some people didn't think he'd done enough." Message given, Ed pushed away from the old Formica surface. "Just thought you should know."

"Thanks, Ed. I'll take care of it."

"Figured you would, Leroy." Through the kitchen window, they could see the back of the store. "You know what you're going to do about the store yet?"

"Haven't a clue."

"Think Jeremy'll be by later. He's Dan Johnson's youngest boy, works for Jackson after school and on weekends. Might be able to help you for a few days."

"That would help." He walked Gantry to the front door, where they could see a young man wearing a Letterman's jacket making his way down the street. "That him?"

"Yep, and up before noon on a snow day. I'd tell you to latch onto him, but he's already got a college scholarship lined up and it's not in grocery store management." That earned a slight snort from Gibbs and the kid passed Ed on the front porch.

"You Jeremy?"

"Yes, sir." Tall and lanky, several sports were listed on his jacket. "Since the school's closed because of the snow, I wondered if you wanted me to open the store for the day. Folks are probably ready for milk and bread and stuff."

Gibbs had found only two eggs in the carton that morning. "I know we are. You need me to unlock it for you?"

"I have a key for the door, but I can't get into the safe for the cash."

"All right, I'll get you set up. Just let me grab my shoes."

He bounded up the stairs and found McGee just finishing his juice. The conversation in the kitchen wouldn't have traveled this far, but the one in the living room probably did. "You heard?"

"Yeah, probably a good idea. I kinda got the impression that some of the older folks around here never leave town."

It was one of the primary reasons Jackson had for not retiring. "Pretty much. I'll grab some groceries for us while I'm there. Any requests?"

Tim shook his head and after Gibbs got his shoes back on he pointed a finger at the younger man. "Stay put, I'll be back in a few minutes, and no talking to anyone in DC. Just rest, Ducky's orders."


	8. Opening the Store

Gibbs' earliest memories were of living above the store with his parents while LJ lived in the storeroom at the back. Small town gossip being what it was, as soon as the store was profitable enough, Jackson had build a separate house directly behind the store, but facing the street behind it. He'd laughed that the commute to work now required shoes, but Anne had been happy and their son now had plenty of room to roam and play. LJ moved into the tiny apartment upstairs where he'd stayed until the secrets about Anne's death tore the two friends apart.

Now he walked the path with a new appreciation of his parents and the life they chose. They reached the back door and Jeremy unlocked it and then stepped aside as if understanding the significance of the morning. "I'm really sorry about Mr. Gibbs, Agent Gibbs. Your dad was a real nice guy. Mr. Winslow might sponsor the teams, but it was always Mr. Gibbs that made sure the guys had snacks on the bus rides home, win or lose."

That made Gibbs smile as he remembered his own days on the team. Second string, no matter how hard he practiced or how good he was, because Winslow Mining was in charge of things, especially back then. No matter what, though, every player came to find him after the game to see just what treats Jackson had tucked away in his son's gym bag.

Gibbs walked slowly through the store as he remembered. He'd learned his multiplication tables using canned beans and fractions using wedges of cheese as his father would drill him between customers before his mother would slip him a piece of chocolate and send him out to play.

The safe was in a little storeroom behind the counter, the curtain Anne had hand sewn, worn and faded, but still covering the opening. The combination was still based on their anniversary and Gibbs spun the dial, his fingers remembering even more than his mind. Two heavy envelopes and a shoe box were in the safe, the accounting method Jackson had used forever. The shoe box was filled with cash ready for the bank while envelope number one was filled with exactly one hundred dollars in assorted bills to start the register every morning. It was envelope number two that brought back the most memories. Nobody went hungry in his town, Jackson had always made sure of that.

Gibbs handed the first envelope to Jeremy so he could get the register ready and took the second envelope to the table and sat down. Tally sheets, some of them almost as old as he was, slid out of the envelope as he shook it. Miners out of work, injured or sick, could buy what they needed for themselves or their family and put it on 'the tab'. It always amazed the younger Gibbs how trusting his father was. It amazed him even more when those tabs were almost always paid down.

"I'm ready, Mr. Gibbs."

He'd almost forgotten the kid was there. Gibbs gathered the papers back up and tucked them back in the envelope before setting it next to the register, where it always stood. Opening the front door, Gibbs found himself face to face with several of the town folk, laying tokens of remembrance in front of the store.

Hugs and pats on the back couldn't be avoided and he remembered to nod at the appropriate times as people gave their condolences. Eventually he was able to escape, grabbing a few items for breakfast before he slipped out the back door and returning to the house.

-NCIS-

Gibbs wasn't knows for his skills in the kitchen, not because he didn't have any but because it wasn't something he shared. Fixing breakfast was something he'd learned from his mother. Later on, it was a tradition he'd had with Kelly. Today it felt good to be puttering around the old kitchen, a room filled with good memories of both his parents. Over the last forty years, the dishes and the glassware had changed, but the three skillets Anne used in the kitchen were still in the cabinet next to the stove. Hash browns in one, bacon in the second, Gibbs found himself humming her favorite song as he cracked eggs into the third. Dropping two slices of bread into the toaster, he could almost hear his father's voice coming from the living room and his mother's daily answer.

_Anne, let the toaster actually toast the bread. Don't just warm it up._

_In other words, turn it black and scrape it down?_

He had to close his eyes for a moment, the memory was so intense. The smell of the bacon brought him back to the here and now and he finished cooking before piling the food high on two plates.

It took a bit of planning and a great deal of balance, but Gibbs managed to take both plates, more juice and his cup of coffee up the stairs in one trip. Tim sniffed appreciatively, leaning close to the cup of coffee before turning a hopeful face toward Gibbs.

Gibbs set everything down and took his coffee out of McGee's reach. "You might have been too out of it to remember, but I wasn't."

Busted, Tim started eating. The eggs were over medium, just the way he liked them, and the hash browns were crisp on the outside and tender on the inside. He'd had no idea that Gibbs was so handy in the kitchen. "You could give Elaine a run for her money."

Gibbs just gave a shrug. "I can do breakfast and I can do steaks. Nothing in between."

"Does that mean peanut butter sandwiches for lunch?"

"Yep."

-NCIS-

Vance leaned back in his seat and studied Tony. He was wearing fresh clothes, but there was no mistaking the tiredness in his eyes. "Good to see you back, DiNozzo."

Tony was staring at a spot right above Vance's left shoulder. "It was a stupid thing to do, I know."

"Ya think?" Vance deliberately used Gibbs' words to make his point. "Not only did you leave in the middle of the work day without authorization, you left a probationary agent alone, running a case. She covered for you, by the way, but you had no right to leave her in the lurch like that."

"Yes, Sir."

"What would she have done if she'd found a lead that needed to be followed? Her and Dorneget out in the field alone? Adams, if he arrived in time? She's never even met him, has she?"

Dropping his head, Tony winced at the reminder. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't. The next time you pull a boneheaded stunt like this, I'll bench you. For now, go home." Vance paused as Tony looked up with a panicked expression. "Be back by 1400 to meet up with the team from the FBI. We're turning the case over to them."

"What? No, we can still get it done, and without the FBI."

He'd promised Gibbs, so he didn't ask exactly how Tony planned on doing that with most of the team gone. "Turns out they've been working the same case for weeks, but from a different angle. Bishop's research caught their attention because she was getting close to an operative they've got undercover."

"Why not a joint operation?"

"It will be for a day or two, before you go back up to Stillwater. This time, when he's ready for you." Vance watched the guilt flash over Tony's face. "Let Gibbs tell you what he needs."

Tony still remembered how Gibbs flinched at their noisy intrusion. "He's not really good at that."

"I thought you were the resident expert on Gibbs-speak? Go home, Tony. Get some sleep and then let's get the case transferred over, so you can be ready when Gibbs needs you."

"McGee and Ducky staying up there?"

"For now. Ducky is handling the arrangements and McGee is on medical leave for the foreseeable future."

"Ducky said something about that, but I don't get it. He was just giving CPR. It's not like he had to pull him out of the bottom of the ocean or..." Tony stopped short, realizing that he was repeating almost word for word one of Abby's rants from the drive home.

Vance's eyebrow climbed at the outburst, but he didn't call him on it. "I am certainly not at liberty to discuss Agent McGee's medical status, but I guarantee you it's been verified. 1400, DiNozzo, don't be late."

Obviously dismissed, Tony turned on his heel and left the room, mentally beating himself up for his last outburst. Abby's words were affecting him more than he wanted to admit.

-NCIS-

Tim McGee was bored. Bored, bored, bored. The TV was downstairs, his phone was downstairs (and still dead), every book in the house was downstairs. Sighing, he punched his pillow into a slightly better shape and laid back down. He could hear Gibbs in the next room, moving things around.

-NCIS-

Jethro Gibbs ran his fingers over the framed picture on the wall, It was a picture of him and his father taken by his mother when he was about ten. They'd driven into Philadelphia for the 4th of July weekend, the three of them. They'd watched a double-header before grilling hot dogs in the park and laying on blankets to watch the fireworks. He'd started his collection of baseball cards that weekend. Curious, he sat down on the bed and opened the drawer of the nightstand. Reaching into the back, he came up with a stack of cards held together with a rubber band.

Grinning, he pulled the picture down off the wall and took it along with the cards. "Hey, McGee."

Tim looked up at him as he walked into the room. "Boss? What's that?" He took the picture when Gibbs held it out, scooting over to let the other man sit on the bed.

"Proof that I actually was a kid."

That reminded him of a conversation with Ziva the first time he'd met Jack. "So, you didn't fall to Earth in a capsule after your home world exploded?"

"Wasn't even molded out of clay, and not a cabbage patch in sight."

Tim bit his lip at the discovery that Gibbs had heard the entire conversation and looked closer at the picture. "Philly?"

"Yep, July 4th. It was a double-header with the Cubs, won both games."

"No surprise there." They exchanged grins at that tidbit. Both men had teased Vance over the years about baseball and his hometown. Looking closer at the picture, Tim had to squint. "Is that who I think it is? Behind your dad?"

Gibbs took a closer look, paying more attention to the background than to the family memories this time. "Holy crap, I think you're right. At least it sure looks like him. I can't believe I was that close to John Wayne and never knew it." He shook his head before a look of sadness crossed his face. "Dad never mentioned it and I'll never get the chance to ask him."

Tim rested his hand on Gibbs' arm, gently giving it a squeeze. "I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, he doesn't look like he realizes who's behind him either."

That made Gibbs chuckle a little. "He watched every movie John Wayne ever made. It would have pissed the hell out of him if he knew he'd been that close and missed the man."

Gibbs leaned back against the headboard and looked at the photo again, brushing his finger against the glass. "So many memories, he never hid them away. Good or bad, everything was always right there, in the open. I should have paid more attention."

Tim had an idea, but he first needed to know if Jackson had ever followed through with the suggestion that Tim had made his first time in Stillwater. Before that, he needed to be allowed out of bed. They went through the stack of baseball cards together first, Gibbs surprised at the number of players McGee recognized.

"Didn't realize you were such a fan."

"It was the only sport my dad wasn't shoving down my throat." He gave a slight shrug. "So, it was the only sport that was fun."

"You haven't talked about him lately, how's he doing?"

"About the same, I guess. We had a big blow up on my last birthday so he's not talking to me right now."

"Tim..." Gibbs stopped, knowing that the two situations were entirely different. "What was the fight about this time?"

"I am now, officially, too old to join the Navy for active duty."

That was the first he'd heard about that possibility. "He was still trying to get you to enlist?"

"Yep. Once he understood what I do at the Agency, he's convinced I should be in the NCDOC."

It took a second, but then Gibbs recognized the acronym. "Cyber Defense? He wanted you to leave the Agency to join the Cyber Defense Operations Command?"

"Yeah and when I turned it down flat it was like my high school years all over again except he couldn't threaten to kick me out to live on the street."

"Ah, hell, Tim. I didn't know about that." Gibbs wrapped an arm around him to squeeze his neck. "You didn't deserve that. I just hope he comes to his senses before..."

"Before the cancer takes him? Yeah, me too." Saddened, Tim didn't fight the arm that was wrapped around him and pulling him closer to Gibbs.

Gibbs took a minute to enjoy the feel of Tim's body against his. They'd always had a different relationship, but the last few days had strengthened and deepened it considerably. "What would make you feel better for now?"

"Well, if I can't have coffee, can I have a shower?"

"That we can do. Let's see if you're steady enough to stand on your own." Gibbs stood, but didn't let go of Tim until he was sure the other man wasn't going to take a header. Once he was convinced Tim was all right standing on his own, Gibbs dug through his suitcase and found him some clean clothes. Most of the packed clothing was dressy, for court, but he found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt along with a fresh pair of boxers.

Towels were in the bathroom so Gibbs didn't have to look. After turning the water on, he steadied Tim as he dropped his boxers and stepped inside the shower.

Gibbs hoped that Tim wouldn't question him as he stayed close and wrapped him in a towel the moment the shower ended. There was no logical reason for him to be doing this, but it felt so good to be taking care of the other man. After Tim was back in the guest room and dressed, Gibbs could see the boredom, not fully masked by the exhaustion. "You want to move down to the sofa? Maybe watch some TV?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." Tim didn't complain at all about being tucked tightly against Gibbs as they carefully made their way downstairs and settled on the big old couch.


	9. Ducky's arrival

**a/n - Still plugging away on this. It's an emotionally draining story to write, so I'm also working on a pure fun smut story at the same time that has absolutely no real plot. That one won't get posted here of course, but will be up on AO3 pretty quick. It's the third in the Remnants series. There will probably be only one more after this to finish up the series.**

**That being said, I'm aiming to post two big chapters a week on this and it won't be anywhere near an epic. As soon as this one is wrapping up, I'll start posting Laboring again. (I've found that I work much faster if I'm only working on one heavy plot story at a time, thus the little stories that get worked into the mix.)**

**I appreciate all the wonderful comments, you guys rock.**

* * *

Gibbs straightened up as he saw the familiar vehicle pull up alongside the edge of the road. "Ducky's here."

On the other end of the sofa, Tim tried not to let his fears show. "Okay, why don't I let the two of you talk in private. I'll, umm, I'll get some water started in the kitchen for tea."

"Tim."

Waving him off, McGee carefully stood. He waited for the slight head rush to dissipate before he moved. "Whatever Ducky found in the autopsy, you have the right to hear that in private. All I have to do is to put the kettle on the stove and turn a dial, then I'll sit down, I promise."

Before Gibbs could think of an argument, Tim was headed into the kitchen and Ducky was stepping onto the front porch. Cursing under his breath, Gibbs answered the door, letting his old friend in.

Ducky stomped his feet to get rid of the snow before he stepped inside. "Ah, Jethro, it's good to see you. How are you holding up? And Timothy? Is he improving?"

"I'm hanging in there, Duck, and McGee is doing better, I think. He, uh, he stepped into the kitchen to give us some privacy."

Ducky had heard some movement coming from there. He didn't want McGee expending too much energy until he'd examined him, so he got straight to the point. "Dr. Owens and the local coroner both sat in with me as I did the exam and they both concurred with my findings. We're afraid nothing could have saved Jackson, I'm afraid. Even if he'd already been in the hospital's cardiac unit, hooked up to every monitor possible, they would not have been able to get him back, not for more than a few minutes at the most. The damage was just too severe. I'm sorry, Jethro."

Gibbs heard a muffled sob from the kitchen and was instantly on his feet. Ducky followed him and they found Tim standing at the stove, head bowed. Gibbs didn't hesitate, he stepped up behind Tim and wrapped his arms around the younger man, pulling him close so that he could whisper in his ear. "You did everything humanly possible. I never doubted it for a moment."

"I was so scared that I screwed up."

"Because of what Abby said to you?" Ducky's eyes went wide and Tim stilled so Gibbs explained how he knew. "Ed stopped by this morning. He was worried that you'd blame yourself, thought I should know."

Tim didn't say anything right away so Gibbs turned him around to face him, lifting Tim's chin to make eye contact. "Nobody could have done more. There's not a doubt in my mind about that and I'm going to keep telling you that until you believe it, too."

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, McGee." Gibbs kept him tucked up tight against Gibbs' side as they walked to the kitchen table and Gibbs eased him down into a chair, keeping a hand on his shoulder. "Now, Ducky's going to check you out, okay?"

If Ducky was surprised by the touching, he didn't say anything. He was, however, a little unhappy with the results of his exam. "Timothy, your blood pressure is a little higher than I'd like to see it and your body temperature is still a bit elevated. Are you drinking plenty of fluids?"

There was only one of the bottles of Gatorade left and Tim picked it up from the table as he tried to muffle his cough. "Had two of these today already."

Ducky didn't seem as pleased as Tim had hoped. "That's a start, but I want you to keep it up. Plenty of water, too. Now, when did that cough start? You're sounding a little raspy."

Tim tried to shrug it off. "My throat's still dry."

"Then drink." Gibbs opened the seal on the drink bottle and handed it back to McGee before turning his attention back to Ducky. "He need to go back to the hospital, Duck?"

"No, I don't believe so, but we do need to keep an eye on him as Dr. Owens stated. Since he's downstairs, would I be correct in assuming Timothy was resting on the sofa?"

"Yeah."

Ducky gave McGee a smile and patted his arm. "Then that's where you should be."

-NCIS-

Tony arrived at work for the second time that day and stowed his backpack under his desk. Bishop looked up with a tentative smile. "You get some sleep?"

"Yeah, enough. Show me what we've got so far before the FBI shows up, okay?"

She brought the files over and sat on the corner of his desk. "I'm so, so, sorry, Tony. I didn't realize..."

"No way you could have known, Bishop."

"I know, but..."

Tony shrugged as he confessed. "Hey, I accidentally did the same thing today, so I get it. Really."

That made her feel a little bit better. "You did?"

"Yeah. Totally forgot that Elaine served him at least one meal a day while he was living with Gibbs."

"Elaine?"

Tony snapped his fingers as he leaned back in the chair. "You haven't been introduced to the diner yet, have you?"

That perked her up. "Diner?"

"Dinner tonight, Bishop. Introduce you to the diner and stories about Jackson."

Vance had been walking through the bullpen just in time to hear that and nodded in approval. "What time?"

Quickly thinking, Tony decided it would be a good opportunity for a mini-wake, mentally adding Abby and Palmer to the dinner plans, plus some of the agents that worked security while Jackson was under protection. "1900? Assuming we get finished with the FBI in time. Is Fornell coming? Has anyone told him about Jackson yet?"

"Yes and no." Vance made a mental note to make sure Fornell was told, preferably before he asked where Gibbs was hiding. "He might have a story or two, himself."

-NCIS-

When Tim fell asleep Gibbs and Ducky moved back into the kitchen. Ducky gave his old friend a careful look. "You and Timothy seem to be getting rather close."

"You say it like it's a bad thing. Is it?"

"No. No, of course not." Ducky struggled for a moment to explain. He'd hoped that taking care of McGee would help Gibbs cope with the loss of his father, but he hadn't expected them to get this close, especially this quickly. "I am just surprised, that's all. Timothy has always had a bit of a hero worship complex when it comes to you, and..."

"And for the first time I've taken the time to really get to know him. Or, at least admit to myself how much I want to know him – the man, not the agent that sits at that desk every day. He, he reminds me of Shannon, Duck."

"He's not a red-head, Jethro."

"Shannon was a lot more than a red-head and Tim is a lot more than the computer geek most people see."

"Of course."

"Is he going to be all right? He seems so exhausted."

"There isn't an instant recovery from something like this. We'll watch for any complications, but mostly he just needs time to rest."

"What kind of complications?"

"Now, let's not go borrowing trouble, Jethro."

"Ducky, what problems could happen?"

Sometimes Ducky really hated that stubborn streak. "Possible kidney damage, but since he suffered an intense but brief heat stroke, I would consider that one rather unlikely. Just keep pushing fluids to keep the toxins diluted and allow them to flush out of his body naturally."

"What else?"

"Lung issues, but those will take a while to show up."

"Great. Anything else?"

"Neurological damage, but we've seen no suggestion of that so far."

"Could it show up later?"

Ducky thought for a moment. "It's rare if the patient didn't slip into a coma or have a seizure during the original episode. However, to be safe, we'll do some follow-up labs in a day or two for both neurological and kidney damage. Possible lung damage is something we can't accurately test for, we'd just have to watch for symptoms."

"This is why Dr. Owens was going to keep him in the hospital?"

"Yes, but we can easily monitor him here. Like I said, Jethro, let's not borrow trouble. Timothy's recovery is going well. If that changes, we will deal with it.

-NCIS-

"Hey, Abby." Palmer brought a CafPow and set it on her desk before offering her a hug. "How are you doing?"

She shoved away the offered comfort and stood to begin pacing her office. "McGee should have tried harder."

"Abby..." Palmer shook his head, trying to figure out how to get through to her.

"Tony would have been able to save him. I know it."

"No, you don't. You weren't there."

"Ducky survived his heart attack."

He'd gotten a call from Ducky as the other man left Berwick for Stillwater. "Yeah, you're right. However, Jackson didn't have a heart attack, he suffered a full cardiac arrest. Not the same thing at all and McGee did everything humanly possible to save him. It just wasn't meant to be."

"Don't say that. Don't ever say that." Abby turned her back to him and covered her ears. "Go away, Palmer."

"Fine." He turned on his heel and left to find Tony. Either he'd help get through to Abby or Palmer would have a bigger problem on his hands.

-NCIS-

When they heard McGee waking up, Gibbs and Ducky moved back into the living room and Ducky handed Tim a glass of water. "Here, lad, drink up."

Tim dutifully took the glass and started drinking as Gibbs looked around the living room and past the dining room, into the kitchen before sitting next to McGee. "Ducky, you've been through this before. How do you sort through all of this stuff?"

Ducky pursed his lips as he also looked around. The home was neat and tidy, but there were a lot of things that showed Jackson's long life in the home. "I'm afraid our circumstances are very different, Jethro. Photos, of course, legal documents, certainly. The rest is up to the individual. I would suggest that you not give into the temptation to get rid of everything. At least not right away."

Tim chewed on his lip for a moment, remembering the family memories Gibbs had already shared with him. "Gibbs, what brings back the most happy memories?" Warming up to the idea, Tim reached out and laid his hand on Gibbs' arm. "Close your eyes and think back. What are some of the best memories of being home with your parents?"

Ducky's eyes widened as Gibbs seemed to melt against Tim with a slight smile on his face. So distracted by that, he almost missed it when Gibbs started talking. "Sunday dinners. Sitting at the table in the dining room instead of in the kitchen. Mom would do a big roast or a turkey, Dad would stand at the head of the table and carve it."

Gibbs opened his eyes and looked through the archway into the dining room. "The kitchen table's been replaced a few times, but the dining room furniture was my grandparents' gift to them when they got married."

"Does the table at your place have history?" Tim was pretty sure of the answer, but he wanted to be sure.

As he suspected, Gibbs snorted and shook his head. "Twenty bucks at Goodwill after Diane took everything. The recliner." Gibbs looked over at the chair Ducky was sitting in. "Can't remember a time when he didn't have a recliner. Remember him sitting up with me all night in it when I had the chicken pox. Remember him sitting in it when I shipped out the first time and when I came home on my first leave."

Appreciating the quiet support and the guidance, Gibbs took Tim's hand and squeezed it. "Everything else was just functional, but those pieces..."

"Then that's what we'll take home. Those and the pictures and whatever else is important."

-NCIS-

"Yeah, Palmer, what is it?" Tony had to be upstairs in a few minutes to meet with the FBI, and the demand from the Autopsy Gremlin had been a surprise.

"Did you know that Abby blames McGee for Jackson's death. She's convinced that you would have been able to save him."

"Well..." Tony ran his hand over his head as Palmer stared at him.

"Don't tell me that you believe that, too." Palmer crossed his arms as he leaned back against one of the autopsy tables.

"No, I'm sure he did everything he could."

"But you could have done more?"

"I don't know." Feeling cornered, Tony started pacing. "I don't want to believe it, but now that's it's in my head, I can't let it go."

Palmer watched, trying to decide if Tony was truly questioning McGee's attempts or if he was just hurting and striking out. "What would you have done differently?"

"Don't you get it? I don't know. I just don't know. I'll never know and that's what makes it... It's just hard, you know." Stopping, Tony's shoulders sagged and he leaned forward, his hands resting on the same table that Palmer was resting his hip on. "Don't think McGee's ever had to do CPR, not on a real person. It's different, maybe he..."

"NO! I've certified him the last two years. He knew what he was doing."

"I guess we'll never really know, will we?" Tony pushed away from the table and smoothed his suit. "I've got to be upstairs and meet with the FBI, Palmer. Is there anything else?

Palmer waited until Tony was almost at the door. "He suffered a heat stroke, he worked so hard trying to save Jackson, you know."

Tony didn't answer, just waved as he walked through the door. Once in the elevator, he thumped his head against the metal wall, trying to shake the traitorous thoughts away. He knew he needed a head slap, but this would have to do.

-NCIS-

Pam smiled at the three FBI agents in the outer office. "Agent Fornell, Director Vance would like to speak to you in private for a moment first."

Fornell looked surprised, but it was one of the other agents that responded first. "I thought this was going to be a full disclosure meeting?"

Keeping her cool, Pam smiled at Fornell. "It's a personal matter, Agent Fornell."

"All right." Curious, Fornell entered the private office. "Leon, what's going on?"

Vance was sitting at his desk and waved his hand at the chair across from him, waiting until Fornell was sitting down. "Part of the reason we're so willing to turn this case over without making it a joint operation is because we're down a few agents. I'm afraid Jackson Gibbs died quite suddenly early yesterday morning."

"Ah, hell. How's Jethro taking it?"

"About how you'd expect."

"So, withdrawn and uncommunicative?"

Vance had to smile. "Yeah, something like that. McGee was driving past Stillwater and Gibbs asked him to stop and check on him, so he was with Jackson when he collapsed. McGee is still up there and of course Gibbs is there now, as is Dr. Mallard. Considering how close the team is, I'll be releasing the rest of them to go up for the funeral. DiNozzo and Bishop will be around for another day or two to work with your team to make sure you've got everything we've put together so far, but..."

"No, I understand. Damn, Jackson was a hell of a guy."

"Yeah, he was. Barring a crisis, I'll be going up to Stillwater, too. I won't stay past the funeral, but I want to pay my respects. Actually, quite a few members of the Agency are planning on being there."

"Of course. Carter is in charge of the investigation. I'm just here, well, I was supposed to sooth things over if necessary, but unless things really heat up, I'll be going up there as well. I owe Jethro that."


	10. To Jackson

**a/n - I was asked why Abby is holding onto her anger for so long. Remember, we're only to the day after Jackson's death, not that long in the bigger picture. I'm just finishing the last scene in the next chapter so you'll get that on Wednesday. Thanks everyone for the wonderful reviews, you make my day.**

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"Shall I fix dinner, Jethro? Timothy needs to eat something and even you can't live on coffee alone." Ducky leaned against the doorway and watched the two of them. Tim had dozed off again, this time with his head resting on Gibbs' thigh, and Gibbs was brushing his fingers across Tim's head as he stared off into space. Ducky's voice startled him.

"What?"

"Dinner, Jethro. Any requests?"

There's a couple of casseroles in the fridge, Ducky. Just not the one with the ravioli in it."

"Saving that one for something special?"

Gibbs finally turned and looked at him. "No, we're avoiding that one at all cost, Ducky. Believe me, it's for the best."

Curious, Ducky went into the kitchen and pulled both pans out of the refrigerator. The cabbage rolls looked rather tasty and he started pre-heating the oven to the temperature listed on the note. Once that was done, he turned his attention to the other casserole, studying it for a moment before returning to the living room.

"I must ask, what is that dish? It almost looks like canned Chef Boyardee ravioli layered with chicken pieces."

"Yep. That's exactly what it is. Boiled chicken at that."

"Oh, my." Ducky had an expression on his face that Gibbs had never seen before.

"I mean, if you want it, Duck, help yourself."

Ducky's lip curled, which Gibbs took as a no, but he had one more question for Gibbs. "I'm almost afraid to ask, Jethro, but what, exactly, is the sauce made with?"

"Got weird little round things in it?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Then that would be Spaghetti-o's and Velveeta cheese. She's been fixing that for years. Apparently it was her husband's favorite dish."

"Either the man had no taste buds or was an absolute saint." Ducky gave a shudder and turned to return to the kitchen. "When is the garbage pick-up?"

"Day after tomorrow. Keep it in the refrigerator until then. If it warms up at all, we'll smell it." Gibbs checked the time and realized that it was close to the end of the business day. Carefully he slid out from under Tim, watching for a moment to make sure he didn't wake up. When that was successful he went into the kitchen, heading for the back door. "Gonna close up the store, send Jeremy home."

When he arrived at the store, Jeremy had the front door locked and was counting out the money. "How'd it go?"

"Pretty busy, Agent Gibbs. We're getting low on eggs and bread. Totally out of milk, but tomorrow is the usual dairy delivery day."

Gibbs tried to remember the business details from when he was a teen. "Does he have a set order? Do you know if he paid cash on delivery or has an account with them?"

Jeremy shrugged. "I'm not sure. I've never actually worked on a delivery day. Usually I'm just nights and weekends. Umm, school's supposed to be open tomorrow, but I can ask my mom about missing a day."

"No, you go to school. We'll manage tomorrow." While Jeremy was finishing up Gibbs grabbed a few treats before finding a few boxes in the back. He set one on the table and packed up some of the pictures from the wall. He took the ones that showed his father's travels, along with the old pictures of the grand opening of the store, Jackson and LJ shaking hands as Anne turned over the open sign for the first time. The pictures of the town over the years he left for the next owner, whomever they might be.

After one last look around, he took down the curtain from the storeroom doorway. It was really too faded and tattered to do anything with, but it was the only thing left that his mother had made. If nothing else, it could be padding for the glass in the picture frames. The last personal items in the store were Jackson's laptop and his white canvas apron. Gibbs carefully and precisely folded the apron and tucked it between two of the frames in the box before setting the box on top of the laptop.

Picking everything up, Gibbs followed Jeremy out the back door, waiting for the younger man to lock it. "Let me know how many hours you've worked since your last payday and I'll take care of it, alright?"

Jeremy seemed relieved and Gibbs suspected he never would have asked to be paid on his own. "Thanks, Agent Gibbs. The Winter Formal is coming up and..." He blushed as he shrugged. "Well, you know."

"Yeah, I do." He waited a beat. "Is she cute?"

"Prettiest girl in the school."

"You treat her right, then."

"Planning on it, Sir."

This time Gibbs didn't correct the sir.

-NCIS-

Despite his earlier grumpiness, Carter seemed pleased with the information NCIS had to add to the case. "This gives us a whole new line of questions for the suspects we picked up the other day and will probably help our guys undercover."

Tony had been reviewing what the FBI brought to the table. "You've got Lee in custody now, right?"

"Lee and Miller, both. Why?"

"Okay, we don't have anything on Miller, but we've got Lee's fingerprints from our original crime scene."

"Yeah?" Carter thought he knew where DiNozzo was heading but he wanted to be sure, remembering stories about the crazy agents at NCIS that he'd heard, especially from Sacks.

Tony was warming up to his idea, his hands swinging around as he talked. "Okay, so they know that you don't have anything on them and they're smart enough to wait it out, right? So, what if Lee was – transferred – to the custody of NCIS?" Finger quotations made his point and he continued to explain. "Lee realizes that we have something on him, Miller will realize it too, if he's smart at all."

Carter was beginning to suspect that crazy actually meant crazy like a fox. "Lee might get tripped up and Miller might break to save himself if he's convinced Lee is going down." He nodded, thinking about how to work it. "Okay, we do the standard morning interrogation with each of them, then arrange for them to go back to their cells. Conveniently, tomorrow, that happens to be at the same time so Miller gets to see two NCIS agents show up with paperwork to take Lee."

"We tell him in front of Miller that we've got him dead to rights. Fingerprints and fibers to tie him to the deaths."

"You've got fibers?" Carter started flipping through the dozens of pages of evidence, looking for what he missed. Tony waved that off.

"We've got tons of fibers, just nothing to match it to, yet. Soon as we do..."

"Yeah, okay, that will work." Carter glanced at Fornell, then back at Tony. "All right, be at the holding facility at noon."

"Noon it is."

Standing up, Carter pointed at Bishop. "That was some pretty good research you did. If you ever want to come play with the big boys, come see us."

She blinked as she leaned back from his finger. "If I wanted to keep playing with the big boys, I'd have stayed at the NSA."

Fornell snickered at that. Gibbs had an uncanny ability to develop loyalty from his people in a very short time. He almost missed it when Tony started talking to him. "We're having a mini-wake for Jackson tonight at the diner. Bishop here never got a chance to meet him and she's never been at the diner before."

"Sounds good, I'll meet you there."

-NCIS-

Tim perked up when a cup was put in front of him. "What's this?"

Gibbs looked rather pleased with himself. "Decaf coffee."

"Thanks, Gibbs." McGee took a tentative sip, then started drinking. It might not have the caffeine kick, but it was hot and strong.

Ducky hadn't been paying too close of attention, but he was sure Gibbs had only made one pot of coffee. "Jethro, are you actually drinking decaffeinated coffee also?"

"Not the end of the world, Duck. Tim can't have the caffeine right now, so I'll manage."

"I see." Somehow in the last day and a half, 'Boss' and 'McGee' had become 'Gibbs' and 'Tim'. Ducky was a little concerned by the change, but didn't say anything. Instead, he stood when the oven timer beeped.

Dinner was a quiet affair for the three men. Gibbs nudged the coffee mug closer to Tim when he started coughing again, then handed over a package of hard candies when the hot liquid didn't help. "Here, suck on one of these."

"Thanks."

Ducky was watching the exchange. "Is your throat sore, lad?"

"Nah, just a little tickle." Tim finished unwrapping the candy and popped it into his mouth. "This should take care of it.

-NCIS-

"Wait, wait a minute. What was wrong with his stroganoff?" Ellie was laughing as Tony tried to explain the kitchen restrictions Gibbs had put on his father when the elderly man was in DC.

"We don't know. Gibbs would never tell us. What about you, Fornell?"

Fornell leaned back as Elaine refilled his cup. "Nope, but I did hear the term 'bubble butt' come up one Christmas."

Tony frantically shook his head. "We don't need to talk about that one. What about you, Abby? What's your favorite Jackson story?"

She hadn't perked up at all. "I just remember how good his hugs would make me feel."

"Yes, even Jackie would come up with an excuse to drop by the Yard when Jack was visiting." Vance smiled as he remembered the visits and how much the kids enjoyed visiting with him. "He'd always have a magic trick ready when he saw the kids."

Ellie smiled at the image. "Aww, I wish I had gotten to meet him. What was it like, meeting him for the first time and on a case?"

"By the time I met him, we knew who he was." Tony picked at his napkin as he thought back. "It was Ziva and McGee that got to go to Stillwater first for that case. From what I heard, they were pretty surprised. I guess he was flirting with Ziva before they even knew who he was."

"Gibbs' dad was a flirt?"

Elaine returned with a tray of desserts just in time to hear Ellie's question. "Oh, honey, you have no idea. Especially when he put on that sweet country bumpkin face." She started handing out slices of cherry pie, warm with a scoop of ice cream on the tops. "Lord, that man was a charmer and he loved his cherry pie. Even when he was supposed to be watching his sugar, he'd sweet-talk one of my girls into getting him a slice."

Vance smiled at the memory, remembering Jackson getting an extra slice of chocolate cake out of Jackie a time or two. He raised his coffee cup, the rest of the table joining in a second later. "To Jackson."

"To Jackson."

"Here, here."

"To Jack."

"To Jackson."

-NCIS-

As they left the table, Gibbs could tell that Tim was still in pain. "Why don't you go on upstairs and I'll work on your back again after I finish up down here and grab a shower."

That sounded really good. "Thanks."

Ducky watched not only the exchange, but McGee's stiff movements as he walked up the stairs. "Normally I would recommend a hot bath or shower for those sore muscles, but there is too great of a risk of him becoming too over-heated right now."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that. How's he doing, Ducky, really?" There was no mistaking the concern on Gibbs' face as he walked to the linen closet and pulled down fresh sheets for the downstairs bedroom.

"In the morning I'll take some samples and have them run through the lab in Berwick just to be safe. I may have you take him to the local doctor's office for a chest x-ray tomorrow also. I believe he's back in town." Ducky was also concerned, enough to consider taking McGee with him, but he knew it would be less stressful on both men if he didn't. If the x-rays or lab results showed anything, Gibbs could bring him in quickly enough.

"You think he's starting to have some complications?"

"It's possible, Jethro. It's also possible that he's developing a simple upper respiratory infection, but the strain his body was under could cause additional problems."

"Pneumonia?"

"He will have a higher risk of it, certainly, but if it happens, we will be able to treat it. Now, I am perfectly capable of changing the sheets and putting away the leftovers. You go on upstairs and I'll see you both in the morning."

After saying his good night's to Ducky, Gibbs followed McGee up the stairs. In his old room, he stripped down and grabbed his kit and a towel.

-NCIS-

Enough people had gone to the diner that they'd ended up carpooling. Jimmy didn't see Abby's car in the lot, so he made sure to be next to her as they walked out. "Need a ride back to the Yard?"

Abby looked first to Tony, but he was in a deep conversation with Bishop, Fornell and Vance and none of them looked like they were going anywhere for a few minutes. "Yeah, sure."

Just to make sure she didn't jump out and catch a ride with someone else, Jimmy waited until they were half way back to the Yard before he started talking. "You still think McGee didn't do enough to save Jackson?"

As he half suspected, she crossed her arms and glared at him. "I don't want to talk about McGee."

"Guess Tony and I will have to prove it to you tomorrow." And prove it to Tony, too, but he didn't say that out loud. Jimmy had a plan. It was going to take a lot of work, but he'd already gotten most of the information he needed.

-NCIS-

The water felt good, but Gibbs didn't linger in the shower. He quickly dried off and slipped into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before crossing the hall and lightly tapping on the door. When he heard Tim's soft 'come in' he opened the door.

McGee was sitting up on the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers as he rubbed at his right knee. He stopped as Gibbs stepped into the room, but Gibbs noted the slight swelling below the knee cap. "That from banging around in the truck yesterday?"

"Yeah, I think so but it's not too bad."

It wasn't, and in his head Gibbs knew that, but it was one more piece of evidence as to how hard the day before had been. Gibbs picked the bottle of liniment up off the dresser as he walked to the bed. Sitting down on the edge, he shook out a few drops into his hand and started on McGee's right ankle.

Enjoying the little moans and purrs from McGee, Gibbs worked that leg up to his knee, paying special attention to every muscle, tendon and ligament in the swollen joint. Once he was done with that leg, he started on the other, adding more of the liniment to his hands as he worked. From there he worked his way up both legs, his hands creeping up a few inches past the hem of Tim's boxers.

Realizing how much he wanted to keep working further up Tim's legs pulled Gibbs back a little. He removed his hands from under the fabric and busied himself with the liniment for a few moments as he got himself back under control.

Tim opened his eyes and looked at him with such a peaceful expression that Gibbs couldn't pull away. He started on the fronts of Tim's shoulders and then down onto his chest. Even when his thumbs stroked across Tim's nipples, Tim didn't pull away from him, only gave him a soft smile.

Gibbs let his mind wander as he rubbed his hands over Tim's sides before lifting him up to work on his back. As the night before, Tim settled comfortably against him, his face snuggled against the crook of Gibbs' neck. Unlike with Tony, he'd never thought of himself of a surrogate father for Tim, but if anyone had asked him he would have admitted as deep of a love, perhaps even deeper. He'd just never analyzed exactly how those feelings were manifesting themselves. One thing he did know was that the timing of this revelation sucked.

Knowing it was for the best, when he'd worked all the muscles in Tim's back, he laid him back down on the bed and prepared to leave. Tim looked to be asleep, but his eyes opened a slit and he took Gibbs' hand, holding him there. "Stay."

He opened his mouth to say no, he really did, but what came out was a yes.


	11. Schooled by Jimmy

Abby looked as unhappy as he felt as she climbed out of her car to join him. He wondered if she had any details. "Any idea what's up?"

She slammed the car door hard before walking over to him. "You mean besides the fact that Palmer is acting like he's in charge of the Agency, ordering us here two hours early? He didn't tell you either?"

Tony raked his hand through his hair. A cryptic phone call had woken him way before his alarm was set to ring with Palmer telling him to be at the Yard by 0600, Tony reacting automatically to the authoritative tone in his voice. "Come on, let's just get it over."

They both signed in and went down to the basement. Palmer was waiting for them with a snow shovel and a stack of clothes. "You guys have any breakthrough about McGee last night?"

"If we said yes, could we go back home for a couple of hours? Come on, Palmer, we talked about this yesterday. McGee did everything he could, it just wasn't enough."

"But you've still got this nagging little voice telling you that you could have done more, right?"

He didn't get an answer, but Tony's eyes flickered over to look at Abby for a split second. Her jaw was set and she was glaring at Palmer.

"Okay, let's prove it."

"What?" Tony turned his attention back to Palmer just in time to catch the jeans and sweatshirt that was tossed at him. A heavy canvas coat with a thick lining came next.

"Let's recreate the scene, that's what we do, right? That way we'll know exactly how easy it would have been to save Jackson. Isn't that right, Abby? After all, if a day of thinking about it hasn't changed your mind, maybe seeing it with your own eyes will."

Despite his inner doubts, Tony didn't want to do this. "Palmer, I don't..."

"What's the matter, Tony, chicken?"

Cornered, Tony stormed into the small room Palmer and Ducky used as a dressing room. When he came out Abby was drawing a diagram on Jackson's property on the white board while Jimmy supervised. Jimmy looked up and handed another marker to Tony. "Make any changes you think it needs and write down all the measurements you can remember."

Tony closed his eyes for a moment as he pictured Jackson's house and property, then opened them to study Abby's drawing. It was pretty close, but he changed a few details and starting writing down the distances between the various landmarks. "There, now what?"

"Okay, so if the snow from here to here was dug out, how man cubic feet of snow would that be?"

Abby looked at their drawing. "It depends on how deep it was."

"Deeper than it is here – almost double." Jimmy handed the shovel to Tony. "Consider that a gift. I figure from the service exit door to the north end of the building would be about equal to the distance Tim dug, even it it's only half as deep."

"And then what?" Tony threw the shovel down onto the floor. "What the hell is this going to prove?"

In answer, Jimmy pulled the sheet back off of one of the tables to show the CPR dummy they used in training. "Then we'll see just how long you could keep it up."

"Fine." Tony scooped the shovel back up and stormed out. He couldn't even express why he was so angry all of a sudden. Outside, he started shoveling. By the time he was at the end of the building, he'd burned through his anger along with his energy. "Okay, I get it."

"Body's on the floor, Tony. Clock's ticking." Palmer was standing there with a stopwatch. "You're the expert, right?"

Groaning, Tony lumbered back to the door, wondering why he hadn't jumped down Abby's throat in the beginning instead of letting her get to him. Once inside Autopsy, he peeled off his coat and dropped down to his knees. Palmer gave him a funny look at the deviation, but didn't say anything as Tony shook his head. "No point in giving myself heat stroke just to make the point, Palmer."

Before he could start, Palmer tossed a small notebook on the other side of the DPR dummy. "There's your phone, remember that you have to be talking to the 911 dispatch at the same time."

"Shit." Tony struggled with getting his rhythm started as he leaned closer to the notebook. He started to rattle off the required information, then faltered as he saw that the actual transcript was printed out for him. Knowing it was exactly what Jimmy wanted from him, he read off Tim's exact words as Jimmy played the part of the dispatcher.

"911, police, fire or medical?"

"Medical, I need a bus, I think he's had a heart attack." Tony was finding it very hard to talk as he worked.

"You're calling from a cell phone, sir. I need an address."

"What?" Tony looked up at Palmer. "The address?"

"Figure it out, clock's ticking." Palmer held up the stopwatch as Abby started crying behind them.

"I don't know." Tony could feel the panic building as the CPR dummy beeped a warning that he wasn't giving enough pressure on the chest plate. "I can't talk and do this, Palmer."

"Then just do the CPR and we'll listen to the recording, okay?" Jimmy pulled a small tape player out of his pocket and turned it on.

_Is someone giving the victim CPR?_

_"I am."_ They could hear him panting and struggling to speak

_Are you alone with the victim?_

_"Yes! Three... four... five... How soon?"_

_ETA on the ambulance is fifteen minutes, sir. Local officers have been notified._

_"Are they coming?"_

_ETA unknown, sir._

_"Damn it, we need help now." _

Hearing the panic in McGee's voice made it real and gave Tony a burst of energy. It seemed like forever before the dispatcher came back.

_We're checking, sir._

Another seemingly long wait before a different voice came on the line.

_All right, son, how you doing? My name is Daniel and we're going to get you through this. Now, what's your name._

_"Tim, I'm Tim. We need help."_

_We know, son. Sheriff Gantry is on his way, but he's way out on the north side of town, almost to Maple Grove. It's going to take him a while to get through the snow. One of his deputies is trying to get back from Waterton. They're the only two on duty today, Tim._

More time passed. Tony had all but given up on the rescue breathing to focus on the compressions.

_"Where's the damn ambulance?"_

_We're trying to raise them now, Tim. Hold on._

Tony's compressions slowed down and his head dropped as he imagined the scene. His arms were already burning and the few minutes of rescue breathing he'd done left him too winded to do more than whisper. Hearing the almost sub-vocal count the recording barely picked up told him of the determination of his partner. "I can't do any more."

"Tony!"

He had to take a few deep breaths before he could answer her. "No, Abby. I can't. Maybe a few more minutes, but not enough to do any good. I couldn't have saved him either." God, those words hurt to say. He dropped onto his butt and scooted back far enough to lean against the nearest table. Abby joined him and buried her face in his shoulder and cried as they listened to the rest of the recording and Palmer calmly counting off how much time had lapsed.

"Fifteen minutes."

"Eighteen minutes." Abby started crying harder.

"Twenty minutes." Tony gave up trying to blink back the tears.

_"Where's the damn ambulance?"_

_We're trying to raise them now, Tim. Hold on._

They could hear some muffled noises in the background and obviously Tim had heard them, too.

_"What? What's happening? How much longer?"_

_The ambulance went off the road and rolled. We're going to try to..._

They could hear the near panic in his voice._ "No! He needs help now. How long for another ambulance?"_

_There's been a multi-car pile up on Interstate Eighty. All the other ambulances in the area are there, but we're trying to reroute one now. Just stay calm, Tim, you're doing fine._

_"He's not! Please..."_ They could tell that Tim was struggling physically at this point. _"You have to help us."_

_You're inside the house? Can you see anyone outside? Do you know any of the neighbors?_

_"No, no one. I... I don't live here, I don't even know who to find."_

_Okay, Tim, I'm going to try and get the Sheriff on another line. Just hang on._

_"Yeah, sure." _They could hear Tim counting to himself, no longer the sub-vocalization from earlier. Tony suspected that he was struggling to keep the count straight as the obvious exhaustion was beginning to overwhelm him. Listening to round after round, Tony wanted to reach through the recorder and stop Tim from hurting himself any further.

_Sheriff's close, Tim. He'll be there in a few minutes. Listen for his siren. Tell me when you hear it._

_"Yeah, okay."_

Time seemed to stand still for Tony as he listened to McGee's continuing struggle to keep Jackson alive.

_"I hear it, I hear a siren."_

"Please tell me that Gantry made him stop."

Jimmy turned off the audio player and sat down next to them. "He couldn't. Tim wouldn't listen to anyone about giving up. They carried Jackson out to the Sheriff's truck and Tim went right back to performing CPR." Now that they were ready to really listen, Palmer explained everything that had happened on the trip to Berwick right up through McGee's collapse after calling Ducky, giving them more detail than Dr. Mallard had earlier.

"Is McGee going to be all right?"

Palmer didn't answer Tony's question right away, which alarmed Abby and she finally looked up. "Jimmy?"

Sighing, Jimmy told them what he could. "He's showing a few symptoms that suggest he might be developing some complications. Dr. Mallard is running a couple of tests today and he's going to send him for a set of x-rays."

Tony tried to read the expression on Palmer's face. "What kind of complications?"

"He's got a cough starting. Heat stroke can damage both the lungs and the kidneys and either one could cause a cough."

"Why would the kidneys be causing a cough?"

Abby answered before Jimmy could. "Because if his kidneys are shutting down, the excess fluid would be collecting around his heart and his lungs. The damage to his ribs..."

"Affects his ability to breathe deeply and makes any possible problem worse." Jimmy gave her a nod. "Yeah, Dr. Mallard is worried about it."

Tony was still trying to read Palmer's expression and not liking what he was picking up. "You're worried, too."

"Yeah, I did some research last night after I talked to Dr. Mallard. Something that was kinda weird..."

"Weird how, Jimmy?" The fear was slowly building up in Abby's voice.

"Okay, it was just one research paper, but..."

"But?"

"A hospital in Chicago tracked all of the heat stroke patients they had in a year and most of them eventually developed permanent problems."

"But the rest were okay, right?"

Tony's question hit at the heart of the matter. "No, Tony, they died."

"Oh, God."

Abby shook her head. "Numbers, Jimmy. I need numbers."

He could still see the numbers when he closed his eyes. "Fifty-eight original victims, twelve died after they'd been released from the hospital – most in the first three months. All the rest showed some level of brain or nervous system disorder. Half developed kidney problems or blood clots and about ten percent had something go wrong with their lungs."

Abby was just staring at Palmer, but Tony needed more information. "Why isn't he still in the hospital?"

"There's nothing they can do. We just have to wait and see what happens."

"Wait and see? Wait and see?" The realization was on Abby's face, it was apparent that she finally knew she'd screwed up. "No, we have to do something."

-NCIS-

Once again, Gibbs woke feeling more comfortable and content than he probably had the right to be under the circumstances. He laid still for the moment, enjoying the feel of Tim nestled against him. He'd taken his t-shirt off last night and he reveled in the feel of Tim's lips against his skin. Without conscious thought his hand started to trace random circles on Tim's back and he was rewarded a moment later with a gentle kiss to his chest.

"Didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay, I can't think of a better way to wake up." Tim tilted his head up to smile at Gibbs.

They'd done no more than some kissing and heavy petting the night before, but he felt more connected to Tim than he'd felt to any one in a very long time. "Yeah, me either." He brushed his lips across Tim's before shifting them both in order to get up. "I think Ducky wants to take some samples this morning. I'll go find out what the game plan is before you get up, okay?"

* * *

**a/n - Yeah, that's a real research study I found. I'm obsessive like that**.


	12. Caught by Ducky

**a/n - Had a panic - was sick for a few days and then I couldn't find my notebook. Not 100% yet, but I did sort out all my story notes for everything I'm developing so I'm back on track.**

* * *

Ducky was up well before dawn, knowing what was happening in DC. He expected a call from either Abby or Tony if Jimmy had not been successful. What he finally got after a several hour wait was a short text from his assistant.

_The eagle has landed_.

Ducky shook his head and chuckled at the cryptic words. "Oh, Mr. Palmer." He assumed that actually meant success, but he'd apparently have to wait for more details. Deciding to let Gibbs know what was going on, he crept up the stairs, bringing his bag so he could also check on McGee.

The boyhood bedroom of Leroy Jethro Gibbs would have made him smile – if it wasn't for the unmade bed. Before Ducky could start checking for a basement, the door to the guest room opened and the missing man crept out wearing only a pair of boxers, a t-shirt in his hand.

Gibbs looked a little surprise and guilty being caught like that. "Ducky."

Perhaps he'd made the bed when he'd gotten up. "Jethro, did Timothy take a turn for the worse? Is that why you're up so early?" Looking back at the twin sized bed with the perfectly draped plaid cover, Ducky knew his first instinct had been right. Crossing his arms over his chest, Ducky assumed the same expression that he'd used when disciplining his late mother's Corgi's. "What, exactly, were you doing last night?"

Gibbs ears were red, but he stood straight and looked Ducky directly in the eye. "Less than you think, but probably more than I should have."

"Really, Jethro, I understand that this is a very difficult time for you, but to take such liberties... Timothy trusts you with everything he has and more. What, pray tell, are your feelings toward him? Your real feeling, not the knee-jerk reactions of a man in pain."

"You mean the feelings I've been hiding for the last ten years?"

"Jethro?"

"I know, Duck. I know. The timing's lousy but all those years ago, when he stood toe to toe with me that day in Norfolk, I felt something I thought I'd never feel again."

"And now?"

"Now, I don't know, but I'm tired of hiding it." He gave a soft smile, something that Ducky had rarely seen. "Life's too short to put off what's really important and Tim's very important to me."

"I see." He did, really, but it didn't answer the question of Timothy. Was he swept up in the moment, was he still feeling guilty for not being able to save Jackson, or was it more. "Well, why don't you go downstairs and fix some of that decaffeinated coffee for the two of you while I examine your young man."

The unspoken 'stay downstairs so I can speak to McGee in private' was heard loud and clear. "Yeah, sure, Duck. Can I grab some pants first?"

The eyebrow went up and Ducky stepped out of doorway into his old room. "Some breakfast while you're down there would be nice, too, Jethro."

"Yeah, I hear you."

Ducky stayed in the hallway until Gibbs was dressed and downstairs. Only then did he softly knock on the closed bedroom door before letting himself in. Tim was awake and sitting up, obviously waiting for him. "How are you feeling, Lad?"

"Really need to pee, but Jethro thought you'd want a urine sample this morning. Mid-stream, right?"

The actual question had been neatly avoided, Ducky noted as he pulled a large specimen container out of his bag along with a pair of latex gloves. "Actually, we need to monitor your total output today, so I'll want it all. You do that while I prepare to take a few blood samples."

Ducky didn't leave, but he did keep his back turned as he set out his syringe and small test tubes to give McGee at least the illusion of privacy. When he heard Tim finish, he turned back around as Tim snapped the lid in place. The liquid inside was a deep orange, but not brown, the most visible sign of kidney damage.

"Lots of liquids today, young man. I will allow you to have one cup of decaffeinated coffee with each meal today, but other than that, drink water. Lots of water and chart exactly how much liquid you take in and how much your body produces."

"Ducky, I don't feel that bad, really."

"Kidney damage is not like the common cold, Timothy. By the time you start to actually feel it, a great deal of damage has already been done. Let's see if we can prevent that from happening, all right?"

"Okay."

Ducky wiped down the spot on McGee's arm where he was going to draw the blood then deftly slid the needle into the skin, finding the vein with the first attempt. He watched Tim closely, but other than studiously avoiding looking at the blood filling the tube, he looked normal and calm. Ducky waited until he was finished and had a folded piece of gauze pressed against the spot.

"Timothy, as your physician, I feel a certain amount of responsibility toward you. As your friend, I worry about you and don't want to see you hurt in any way."

"Jethro isn't going to hurt me."

The easy way Gibbs' given name was rolling off Tim's tongue this morning actually told Ducky a great deal, but he wasn't done yet. "No, not deliberately, of course. However..."

"He's hurting and I've always done anything he asked or wanted?"

Tim's words pretty much hit on all of Ducky's concerns. "Yes, that does worry me, I must admit. You have never given any of us any indication that you – swung – that way." Knowing he was saying it badly had Ducky wincing.

"I've always known I was bi, Ducky." Tim shrugged as he stared at Ducky and the older man could feel Tim's need to be understood. "Believe me, as the son of John McGee, I learned at an early age to keep it very well hidden."

Ducky sensed he wasn't finished and kept quiet. "I never acted on it because I never met a man that was worth the risk, you know? At least, not until I met Jethro."

This time he had to ask. "When did you first know?"

"In a pure, yeah, I'd let him bend me over and have me? That first case in Norfolk. Everyone thinks I was scared to death of him, but I was actually scared that I'd give myself away. On a deeper level?"

Ducky nodded, but again remained silent.

"When Sarah was in trouble. The look in his eyes when he asked why I didn't come to him. That's when I knew I'd never do anything to worry him again. I tried to tell myself that it was because I respected him so much, but then after the bombing and he found me – when he touched my face, I couldn't deny it anymore. I'm in love with him. It's not something that just happened and it's not something that's just going to fade away and I can't pretend any more. I know how hard this is going to be and I know his history."

"What if things don't work out?"

"What if they do?" Tim smiled as he shrugged. "I've spent almost a third of my life wishing and dreaming that he could love me back. Now that I know he does, I have to try. What is that old saying? It's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? He's worth it to me."

-NCIS-

Walking downstairs, Ducky stayed right at McGee's elbow, but he made it down the stairs just fine, even if that nagging cough was still there. They could hear Gibbs in the kitchen and much to Ducky's surprise he had a full breakfast going on the stove.

"Looks good." Tim smiled and leaned in for a kiss.

"This is real food, Jethro." Ducky actually had a lot more to say on the subject, but he looked up to see the tender kiss between the two men. There was a softness in the usually hard blue eyes that he'd never seen through all the various ex-wives and girlfriends he'd known over the years while McGee showed a contentment unlike anything Ducky had ever seen in him. All in all, it told him more than either of the two conversations he'd had upstairs.

The kiss finally ended, but Gibbs was still looking at Tim as he answered Ducky. "Nothing fancy, but I haven't starved yet, Duck. Just don't tell DiNozzo."

"He'd never believe me if I did." Ducky shook his head and sat at the table to watch the two men. They looked so comfortable together that he didn't understand why he hadn't noticed it before. Or why they hadn't either, for that matter. He didn't realize he'd barked out a laugh until Gibbs turned and looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

Ducky laughed and shook his head again. "Heavens, now that I know, it's as plain as the nose on my face. I don't know why... well, it is obvious that the two of you are good for each other. As your friend, I suppose I can't ask for more than that."

"Thanks, Ducky." Spatula in hand, Gibbs wrapped his arms around Tim's waist, his chest pressed against Tim's back, and rested his chin on Tim's shoulder. "That means a lot." One more kiss and they joined Ducky at the table.

The three men quietly ate their food before Ducky stood up and took his empty plate to the sink. "A breakfast cooked by Jethro Gibbs, himself. Will wonders never cease? Well, I am off to Berwick. If any of the tests come back worrisome, I will call and expect you back at the hospital, young man."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure he gets there if you give the word." The smirk he gave Tim didn't quite wipe away the worry in his eyes.

"Good. Anytime after ten o'clock you can pop over to Dr. Ward's office for your new chest x-ray. I assume you know where it is?"

"The town's not that big, Ducky. I'll figure it out."

"It's behind the barber shop."

Ducky's eyes widened at Gibbs' answer. "How interesting. Did you know that back in the eighteen-hundreds, a town barber would also serve as a surgeon when needed?"

Gibbs didn't want to let Ducky get too sidetracked so he also stood and started to clear away the rest of the dishes. "Old man Mulroney's been the town barber since I was a kid, been renting the back of his place out almost as long."

Needing to leave, Gibbs poured himself another cup of coffee and pulled on his coat. "I'm going to go get the store opened up for the day. Tim, can you go through his laptop and see if you can find any records on his accounts? There's supposed to be a dairy delivery this morning." He found a water bottle in the refrigerator and set it in front of Tim before kissing him again. "Call me when you find something or if you need anything at all."

"I will." Tim enjoyed the warmth of the calloused hand against his cheek before turning his head enough to plant a quick peck against the palm. They exchanged a smile and then Gibbs left out the back door and Ducky left out the front. Tim waited a few seconds, making sure he was totally alone before he gave into the cough that had been building.


	13. An Offer

**a/n - a couple of things this morning. First off, thank you to hostaqueen for her reminder to people. If a reader hates McGee, then why are they bothering to read my stories? Second, my apologies. I meant to post this yesterday, but I got sidetracked researching inheritance taxes in Pennsylvania. Just so that you know, when the direct descendant is over the age of 21, it's a tax rate of 4.5%. Children under the age of 21 and spouses do not pay anything. Siblings pay a rate of 12% and others pay a rate of 15%. Pennsylvania is only one of a handful of states that has an inheritance tax instead of an estate tax. Your lesson for the day. Now onto the story. A shorter chapter today, but that's where it needed to break.**

* * *

"Hello, Jethro. I've come to pay my condolences."

Gibbs barely had the front door unlocked when Chuck Winslow opened it and walked in. "Chuck," Gibbs gave him a nod before moving back to the register to finish getting ready for the day.

Winslow wandered around, picking things up and putting them back down. "I must admit I was surprised when I heard you were running the store."

"It's the only store in town. Somebody needs to." Gibbs was keenly aware of where the other man was, but refused to look up at him, instead concentrating on counting out the cash for the day.

"That's what I came to talk to you about." Pleasantries over, Winslow stood in front of Gibbs. "I'd like to make an offer on the store, bring it under the Winslow umbrella."

"It's the last step in making this a real company town, right, Chuck?"

"I'm glad we see eye to eye. I'll have my lawyer write up an offer for you and drop it off later today or tomorrow. We can have this whole thing settled before the funeral. That's Sunday, right?"

Sunday funerals had been the tradition in Stillwater as long as Gibbs could remember. Probably because it was the only day Winslow Mining would allow all of their employees to miss. He thought about throwing a monkey wrench in the works by setting a different day, but the whole town was also assuming the same thing and already planning for it. "Yeah, Sunday."

"Good." Winslow picked up an apple from the pile and took a bite. Gibbs cleared his throat and gave him a pointed look and Winslow tossed a dollar on the counter as he walked out the door.

Picking up the wadded bill, Gibbs smoothed it out before placing it in the cash register. The store was the one place Winslow Mining had never been able to touch. Jackson had resisted every effort to accept a partnership or even a loan from his former employer.

He felt his father's presence in this place even more than in the home he'd grown up in. "Ah, hell, Dad, what did you expect me to do with the store? I wish you'd told me what you wanted." His phone rang at that moment, the timing causing him to blink, then chuckle at himself as he answered it. "Yeah, Gibbs."

_Is there a printer there, maybe under the counter?_

Gibbs automatically looked without questioning Tim as to why. "Yeah, there is. A pretty new one, even got a cable attached to it. That's to connect it to his laptop?"

_Yep. See you in a minute._

"Wait. You sure you should walk over here? I can run back and get it."

_No, that's okay. Besides, the delivery truck should be there any time._

Sure enough, a box van was coming down the main street toward the store. "Yeah, I think they're here.

_Be there in a minute._

Distracted by his worry for Tim, Gibbs didn't react at first when the delivery driver handed him the invoice marked COD. It was only when the driver stood there, refusing to unload, that Gibbs read the amount, noting the pencil scribble through the usual payment method, making it almost impossible to read.

"Nothing personal, but the boss wants cash today instead of a check. The bank probably won't accept a check if the old man is dead."

Gibbs eyes narrowed at the crass statement, but he knew that technically the driver was right. Sighing, he walked into the storeroom and started to open the safe. Luckily, he hadn't made the bank deposit yet as the register didn't contain enough cash to cover it. Before he could open the safe he heard the bell on the back door, then Tim's voice, sounding slightly out of breath.

"Ah, you're here, good. Give me just a second to print up our copy of the paid invoice and then I'll check off everything you delivered."

Now that his mother's curtain was down, Gibbs was able to lean against the doorway and glare of the driver as he started to defend his actions.

"After the owner of the account dies, the bank can stop any payment on the account. We just..."

"Then it's a good thing the payment went through the day before Jackson passed, isn't it? That way we don't have to discuss your limited knowledge of banking practices." Tim had the laptop plugged into the printer and it was already churning out the needed page. "I've also verified with the bank that they funds were transferred. Would you like a printout of that, too?"

"No. Thwarted in his attempt, the driver went out to the truck and started unloading. Gibbs watched in amusement as Tim checked every carton, making the driver count every bottle of milk and open every carton of eggs to check for breakage. Once that was done and Tim mentioned calling the head office to discuss the breakdown in billing information, three cases of yogurt were added as a 'condolence gift' to the regular order.

Finally letting loose with the chuckle that had been building, Gibbs walked over and wrapped an arm around Tim's shoulders as they watched the truck pull away. "That was amazing to watch, but what are we going to do with all that yogurt? I'm not sure anyone in Stillwater eats yogurt."

Tim was enjoying the sensation of Jethro's arm around him. "Everybody eats yogurt."

"I don't eat yogurt." Gibbs eyes widened as Tim got very still pressed up against him. "Tim?"

Licking his lips and taking a deep breath, Tim shifted enough to look him in the eye. "You know the deli on J Street that we get lunch from sometimes?"

"Yeah..." It was on their regular lunch rotation and Gibbs really liked the place, except for their coleslaw. It was way too sweet for his taste.

"And you don't like the coleslaw, so we always get you the fruit salad..."

"With the creamy strawberry dressing. Yeah, that's pretty good, what about it?" In the silence, Gibbs used his investigative skills. "That's yogurt?"

"And the really good soft-serve ice cream that Ellie brought back last week? That wasn't exactly ice cream."

"It wasn't?"

"Nope. That was frozen yogurt."

"Well, hell." Being fooled once was bad enough, but twice?

"And the dollop of what looks like sour cream on the lentil soup Tony brings back from the curry shop?"

Gibbs realized that the creamy swirl on his favorite soup from there was a little tangier than the sour cream he put on his baked potatoes. "That's yogurt, too?"

"Actually, it's tofu." Tim kept a straight face for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter and Gibbs could only imagine the expression on his own face.

"You brat." Shaking his head he laughed, too, until Tim started coughing. "Easy, you okay?"

"Yeah." Tim had to stop and cough again. "Totally worth it to see you laugh."

It felt good to laugh again with someone he loved and he laughed again as he pulled Tim close. "My brat." He felt Tim's arms tighten around him.

"Always."

Gibbs returned the squeeze and topped it off with a kiss. Life was too short to miss a moment and it started today.

The delivery was done so Gibbs put the sign on the door that stated 'back in twenty minutes' and steered Tim out of the building. Locking the door behind them, he pointed out the barber shop several doors down and across the street. "Come on, let's go get your x-ray."


	14. The Take Down

"Well?"

Dr. Ward turned, only to find himself nose to nose with Gibbs and took a step back on pure instinct. "Hello, Jethro. I am so sorry about your father. I'd been trying to get him to go to the specialist for weeks, but he wouldn't let me call you."

"Appreciate that, Doc, but what's done is done. Right now my concern is Tim."

Luckily, his patient had already given permission to discuss anything about his care with Gibbs. Dr. Ward turned back to the x-ray he'd been studying and pointed out the area he'd been studying. "There's some inflammation showing up in Tim's lungs."

"How bad?"

"It depends on what his other tests show. I'll consult with Dr. Mallard when he has those results, but I suspect we'll start him on an anti-inflammatory, or possibly some corticosteroids. The bruising is causing him to take shallow breaths, which isn't helping." Dr. Ward had heard the story from Sheriff Gantry before he'd talked to Dr. Mallard and thought he understood Jethro's worry. "We don't have much of a pharmacy here in Stillwater, so we'll start him on some aspirin for now and Dr. Mallard will bring back what he needs when he returns from Berwick. His kidney function will determine exactly what we use."

"And you're sure that Tim doesn't need to go to the hospital?"

There was no point in worrying the man before they had all the results. "It's always better to start with a conservative treatment until we know more. If his kidney function is severely compromised, we'll have to try a different approach. For now, we'll start with the 81 mg aspirin every four hours. That will give him the maximum effect for the inflammation while being the easiest on his kidneys."

"Okay."

Jethro sounded more like a worried family member than a work supervisor, giving credence to the rumors that has started floating around town, so Dr. Ward rushed to reassure him. "He's not going to recover overnight, Jethro. Giving the circumstances, he's doing quite well."

It was apparent that he wasn't going to get any more information until Ducky was back later tonight. "All right. So, I can take him home?"

The bright wall light used to read x-rays was in the hallway and Ward just pointed to a numbered door. "Yes. Agent McGee is right in there. I'll send the scan to Dr. Mallard so he can review it while he's still in Berwick." The town doctor didn't pay any attention to the look on Gibbs' face as he used his phone to take a picture of the illuminated image and email it to the Berwick Hospital Radiology Department. Little towns, after all, have to be creative with technology.

-NCIS-

Several of the more common forms of antibiotics, plus the regular medications for the town folk were available in what had to be the world's smallest pharmacy – one shelf behind Dr. Ward's office desk. Aspirin was available at the local store. In other words, it was another reminder of how important the small store was to the town of Stillwater.

Gibbs was reading the fine print, deciding which of the three types there would be the best option when he heard the front door open. He didn't want McGee moving around more than he had to, so he circled around to greet the new shopper. It was a face he hadn't seen in years as the man headed for the counter where McGee was waiting.

"George?"

The white-haired man turned around and smiled. "Leroy, boy, how are you?" He took a few steps to meet Gibbs and shook his hand before pulling him into a hug. "I would have been here sooner but I was stuck waiting for the plows."

"Understood. Let me introduce you to Tim." Gibbs walked him back to the counter as he talked. "Tim, this is George Anderson, the lawyer for pretty much everyone within fifty miles of here. George, this is Tim McGee. He's someone very special to me and he was with Jack when he... he was with him at the end."

McGee smiled and offered his hand. "Mr. Anderson, it's nice to meet you, I just wish it were under better circumstances."

"Agreed, and call me George, please. We're pretty informal around these parts."

"All right, and it's Tim. I assume you're here to talk to Jethro about his father's estate." Tim turned back to Gibbs. "Do you want me to watch the store so the two of you can talk in private?"

Gibbs rubbed Tim's back and shook his head. He'd been watching closely and could tell that even though he was trying to hide it, Tim's cough was worse the more he moved around. Keeping him close sounded like a good idea. "No, besides I'd like your input on what to do with this – assuming that he didn't leave everything to a charity. Which might have been easier." Gibbs shrugged as he admitted to himself how little he was looking forward to dealing with his father's estate.

"No, Jethro. Jackson left everything to you. He always told me that when it came to it, you'd know what to do." Anderson set his briefcase on the large table in the center of the store and when the other two men joined him they all sat down.

Gibbs pursed his lips together as he read over the list Anderson handed him. Jackson owned the house and the store outright, the mortgages on the two building having been paid off years ago. In addition, there was a tidy savings account that surprised him. His father could have sold the store and retired years ago. Apparently he said that last part out loud because Anderson answered him.

"Jackson actually talked about selling at one point. A young man that worked for him years ago was interested, but nothing ever came of it. Probably because a man like Jackson needed something to keep him busy."

"Yeah, probably." Gibbs snorted as he remembered the months Jackson stayed with him after the Reynosa cartel shot up the store. He'd been bored and restless and drove his security detail up the wall until Jethro had found him something to do. "I can't stay here and run it, but I sure the hell don't want to sell the store to Winslow Mining."

"They want it?" That had been the first McGee had heard about that possibility. "Why?"

"Because this is the only place in town they don't have their fingers in. Dad refused every effort they made to get involved and it'd be a slap in his face to just sign it over now."

"I'll go through Jackson's correspondences and see if I can track down who was interested. You have a price in mind?"

"Enough to pay the inheritance taxes? Hell, I don't need the money, that's not what's important." Gibbs looked around at the store, he'd always remember his dad behind the counter, taking care of his neighbors. "What's important is that Jack's dreams for the place don't die with him."

Tim wrapped his fingers around Gibbs' hand. "I'll take care of it, Jethro."

The time of the funeral was set with George Anderson promising to taking care of the details before he left. Once they were alone, Gibbs stroked his hand down the side of Tim's face. "If I let you go back to the house, will you take it easy or do you need me to drag the recliner over here?"

It was close, but Tim didn't roll his eyes. "I'll be fine, Jethro." When he just got the look, Tim amended his statement. "I will rest on the sofa with Jackson's laptop and see if I can find any hints about who might be interested in buying the store."

Gibbs seemed pleased, but continued to look at him, so Tim tried again. "And I will drink plenty of water, measure my pee and take my aspirin right on schedule."

"Thank you." Gibbs brushed his lips across Tim's before he leaned his forehead against Tim's head. "I spent so many years denying what I feel about you, even to myself and like I told Ducky, life's too short to put off what's really important and you're so very important to me. I need you to be all right."

"I will be." Tim didn't want to dislodge Gibbs, even though they were in an awkward position at the moment, but he was able to kiss a spot of skin on the side of Gibbs' jaw. "I have too much to look forward to now. So, do what you need to do and I'll be right where I'm supposed to be, okay?"

Gibbs watched out the back door until Tim was safely back across the yard and in the house before he pulled out his phone. The first call, especially, was going to be hard. "Hey, LJ, it's Jethro. I... I need to tell you about my dad."

-NCIS-

Tony grinned at Ellie, he'd been a bundle of energy all morning. "You ready? Because it's showtime." She watched in amazement as the mask firmly slid into place and a hard-core Fed stepped out of the elevator and strode across the transfer area where prisoners waited to be returned to their cells. She blinked and scrambled to keep up. Tony didn't slow down until he was standing nose to nose with Carter.

As planned, Carter was leading Miller out of one of the interrogation rooms, while Franklin, the quiet agent that hadn't said much the day before, was watching over Lee, who was slouched over in a chair. A nonchalant look was on Lee's face, but they could see that he was taking in everything.

Tony held up his badge while, behind him, Bishop held up the paperwork. "I'm taking one of your prisoners."

"I don't think so." Carter played his role perfectly, arms crossed over his chest. "Since when does NCIS have jurisdiction over the FBI?"

"Since we're the ones with fingerprints and fibers and assorted evidence linking one of your suspects to our dead petty officer, it supersedes your case." Tony gave a hard smile. "The Navy doesn't look kindly on the death of one of their up and coming officers."

Lee's eyes flickered up for just a split second before the casual look returned, but both Tony and Carter caught it. Miller was already starting to stress. He didn't say anything, but his panicked glance over at the older criminal told them plenty.

Carter made a show of looking through the papers Bishop handed him. "Well, everything looks in order. You can take Lee and we'll hang onto Miller, at least for now."

"That's fine. If we can link him as an accessory, we'll be back for him. After all, we can send him to Gitmo. All you guys can do is put him in a cushy federal pen for ten to twenty."

Lee didn't say anything until they were in the car, pulling into to the Yard. "You can't pin a murder on me."

Technically, they couldn't. Especially since Petty Officer Moyers had fallen to his death sneaking into the large warehouse where the weapons had been stolen from, in an apparent attempt to retrieve his lost cell phone. They were counting on the fact that Miller wouldn't know that. Tony shrugged and looked up at Ellie, who was driving. "Yours were the only civilian fingerprints in the place. Somebody's got to take the fall. Either you or Miller are going down for it. Now, my money is on you taking the rap, but let's see who cuts a deal first. Either way, I've got an arrest in my column. Hey, you hungry, Bishop?"

If she was startled by the question, she didn't show it. "You buying?"

"Sure, closing a case always puts me in a good mood. We'll stick this guy in our lock-up and hit the diner. I bet by the time we get back, the Fee-Bee's will already have a signed statement from the lackey and we won't even have to bother dragging this one into interrogation."

"Now, wait a minute. I demand to make my statement as soon as we get there."

They were at the entrance where prisoners were delivered and Tony climbed out of the back seat, dragging Lee with him, who was suddenly in a hurry to get to where they were going. "Hey, it'll take a couple of hours for your lawyer to get here. You know, he's got to be officially informed of your transfer after you're logged in here."

Bishop beamed at their prisoner as she signed them in. "Of course, your partner won't have to wait since his lawyer was already at FBI Headquarters. Is today's lunch special the meat loaf or the fried chicken?"

Tony pretended to think about it as Lee showed his first signs of panic. "Actually, I think it's the hot roast beef sandwich with gravy today."

You could always count of Bishop to get excited about food, and she didn't even have to act. "Oh, you are so buying me extra mashed potatoes, then."

"Fine, then I'm getting the pie for dessert."

"Cherry?"

"No, we had the cherry pie yesterday. I'm thinking peach, or banana cream."

"Banana cream is my husband's favorite. Can we get an extra slice and drop it off at his office?"

"Hey, hey, hey! Forget your damn pie, lady. I want to make my statement now. To hell with waiting for my lawyer."

"You sure?" Tony was all business now. "Are you officially waving your right to have your lawyer present while you're being questioned?"

"Yeah, let's just hurry up, okay? Before that idiot hangs me out to dry to save his own hide."


End file.
